Not Just Any
by MindMySimpleSoul
Summary: "What're you doing to me, man?" Puck asked gruffly as he squirmed around in Finn's arms. "Nothing," said Finn innocently, running his fingers feather-light up his buddy's back. "Just playing with you…warding off the demons…" Pre-series, Pinn, slow burn, Puck/Finn friendship, romance, fluff and a touch of hurt/comfort
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been a** _ **Glee**_ **fan for ages and this is my first fic in this category. I always thought Puck and Finn were cute together and could have made sense under the right circumstances. This will be a slow burn Pinn story. Hope you enjoy.  
**

 **T for language.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Glee**_ **or any of the awesome video games, movies or music mentioned throughout this fic.  
**

 **Not Just Any  
**

 **Chapter 1**

"C'mon, Puck, I said I didn't want to watch that movie. Let's just do something else." Finn rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. He hated the way his voice borderlined on a whine and he prayed Puck wouldn't call him out on it.

No such luck. "Don't be such a pussy, dude. It's a good movie. What, you're not scared or something, are you?"

"What? _No!_ " Finn said a little too quickly. He crouched down so Puck wouldn't be able to see the lie written across his face. He shuffled through a box on the floor containing Puck's video game collection. "It's just—that movie's so old. Thirty years is like, ancient. There's gotta be something different we can do. Here, look," he held up an old N64 cartridge. "You up for getting your ass kicked in _Super Smash Bros?_ "

Truth be told, it wasn't just _The Exorcist_ that terrified Finn, it was all horror movies. He hated the whole genre. What was so fun about being scared shitless? He always had nightmares for weeks after watching one. Last Halloween, Puck made him sit through _The Shining_ , and even though he promised the special effects would be totally lame and un-scary because the movie was from the eighties, Finn had been majorly traumatized. He'd been so scared he had to sleep on the floor of his mom's room every night of the month of November. And then there was that time he ran away screaming from those twin girls in Home Depot who looked like the Grady daughters. And to this day, he couldn't hear the name 'Johnny' without having a mild panic attack.

Puck was kneeling on the couch, peering over the back at Finn. "C'mon man, _The Exorcist_ 's a classic." He brandished a VHS cassette in his face. "I hear the chick's head spins like, all the way around—"

"I—I don't think your mom would want you watching that movie," Finn cut him off loudly, trying to get the image out of his mind. "It's way too Catholic, you know," he added, appealing to Puck's Jewish nature. He climbed over the back of the couch, clambering awkwardly over Puck to stick the cartridge in the N64.

Puck shrugged."Psh, my mom doesn't give a damn. Ow, watch it, dude!" He winced as Finn, who was all bony joints and klutziness, dug a knee painfully into his thigh. He shoved Finn aside. "We'll play _Smash_ some other time. Right now we're watching _The Exorcist_." He went to pop the movie in the VCR, but Finn, with his abnormally long arms, leaned over and plucked it out of his hands.

"No man, look, I'm the guest. We should do what _I_ want to do, and I want to play _Smash Bros_." He gave Puck one of his trademark goofy grins.

Puck cocked his head to the side, "Well, I'm the host, and I say we watch _The Exorcist_." He made a grab for the VHS but Finn held it out of reach.

They stared at each other for a hard moment until they both realized the other was being playful. Eyes dancing with mischief, Finn slowly leaned forward, splaying a hand on Puck's chest. An impish smile formed on Puck's lips as he watched Finn, muscles braced for an attack.

"I'm the guest and I say _Smash Bros,_ " Finn said slowly, giving Puck a shove that knocked him on his back.

"Hey!" Puck got back up on his knees using Finn's arm for leverage. "I'm the host and I say _The Exorcist_." He swiped at the cassette but Finn kept it away, scuttling backwards to the other side of the couch.

"Gotta be quicker than that, Puckerman! We're playing _Smash Bros!_ "

"No, we're watching _The Exorcist!_ "

Without warning, Puck lunged forward, grabbing Finn around the neck and knocked him off the couch. Laughing, the two boys fell to the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table on the way down. They rolled around wrestling playfully, but Finn, who came by his nickname of 'Frankenteen' honestly, had a big size advantage. Before long, he had Puck on his back, sitting on his legs and pinning him down with one large hand on each bicep.

"Looks like I win, bro," Finn said triumphantly. He grinned down at his smaller friend who was still squirming and struggling relentlessly. The sight of it made him laugh. "Just give it up, dude. You're no match for the Finnster!" Finn reveled in his victory. It wasn't every day he bested Puck at something. Still giggling, he held Puck down a little longer until his thrashing subsided.

"Argh!" Puck groaned, his chest heaving from the effort, muttering something under his breath about 'Finnster' being a gay nickname.

"Tire yourself out yet?" Finn teased, pretending not to hear.

Eventually he loosened his grip, but was very surprised to have the wind knocked out of him the next moment. Puck had shot up, head-butting him in the gut. Grunting, Finn crashed hard, feeling the shaved side of Puck's head rasp against his skin. Next thing he knew he was on his back in an arm bar with Puck's legs across his neck and chest.

"Who's the winner now, huh, Hudson?" Puck cried proudly, prying the VHS from Finn's fingers.

"Ow! Alright, dude, alright! Uncle!" Finn yelled, but Puck wouldn't let up so easily.

"Say we'll watch the movie!"

"Alright, fine! Whatever! We'll watch the damn movie; just get the hell off my arm!"

Smiling smugly, Puck released his arm. Finn got up, rubbing his sore shoulder. He plopped down on the couch as Puck crawled over to the VHS player and popped the tape in.

"You're not gonna be disappointed, dude," Puck said excitedly, taking his seat on the other end of the couch. "This is gonna be an awesome Halloween. Tonight we'll watch _The Exorcist_ and tomorrow we have Santana's party. Her dad's out of town and she got her cousin from Fort Wayne to buy her a shit ton of beer. This is gonna be an epic weekend!"

"Yeah, sure dude, whatever," Finn chuckled, grabbing the blanket Mrs. Puckerman always left on the back of the couch. He wrapped it around his shoulders, found the remote and pushed 'play' while Puck turned off the lights. Finn sighed, settling in and resigning himself to being scared shitless. "Let's just get this movie over with so we can play some _Smash_."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for reading! T for language.**

 **Chapter 2**

"Your mother sucks cocks in hell, Karras, you faithless slime," the demon-possessed Regan announced from the TV set.

Finn burst out laughing. This freaking movie was awesome! It wasn't even all that scary. Well sure, it had its freaky moments, like when the girl spider-walked down the stairs or when she stabbed herself in the cooch with a crucifix. But overall, it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd been expecting. He leaned over to give Puck an amused punch in the arm, but the touch nearly sent his friend jumping out of his skin.

"Puck, dude, what the hell? Are you scared or something?" Finn said, taken aback by his sudden movement. He looked over and bit back a laugh, shocked to find Puck curled in a ball, peeking at the TV set over a pillow he had clutched to his chest.

"Huh? Oh, uh, no. Of course I'm not scared," Puck said gruffly, casting the pillow aside. "Only bitches get scared during movies. I'm just, uh…cold. Yeah, that's it, I'm cold."

"Oh, why didn't you say so? Here," Eyes glued to the TV so he didn't miss anything, Finn peeled his blanket off his shoulders and tossed it in Puck's lap. On screen, Regan's bed was now thrashing around violently, which Finn found hilarious. Beside him, Puck had burrowed beneath the blanket, flinching when Regan stuck out her abnormally long demonic tongue.

"Shit, man, this movie's so fucked up," Puck whispered, wide eyed, snatching the pillow back up and pulling it under the blanket with him.

Finn chuckled. "Dude, if I didn't know you any better I'd say you were scared."

"Well I guess you don't know me then, 'cause Puckzilla doesn't get scared," he said somewhat belligerently. Finn held up his hands in defense, deciding he wasn't going to push the issue.

Meanwhile, on screen, the priests were chanting " _The power of Christ compels you!_ " and flinging holy water on a screaming Regan. Puck had managed to poke his head a little further out from the safety of his blanket where it rested atop his mohawk. " _The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!_ "

"Holy shit, man, Catholics are so hard core," Puck muttered, shaking his head slowly. Finn snorted.

Finally, to Puck's immense relief, the movie ended and Finn leaned over to turn on the light. "You were so right, bro, awesome movie," he said. "Now prepare to get your ass kicked in _Smash_." He slid to the floor and went to hook up the N64. Puck didn't even bother coming up with a smart retort. It was only when Finn tossed a controller in his lap that he noticed Puck's pinched expression. "What's wrong with you, dude? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nothing," Puck said absently. He was staring straight ahead, lost briefly in his own little world, contemplating demons and Catholics and exorcisms.

Finn considered him for a moment. He was clearly frightened. He silently debated with himself over the pros and cons of pranking Puck, weighing the likelihood of getting his ass kicked for startling him. In the end, he decided that in the spirit of Halloween, it was well worth the risk.

"What an excellent day for an exorcism!" he yelled in his best demonic impression, jumping up suddenly and closing his hands around Puck's neck.

"Agh!" Puck yelled, swiping at his neck, his tanned face paling. His expression of pure terror was absolutely priceless. Finn clutched his side and fell to the floor laughing.

"Oh my god, dude, you're face! You shoulda seen your face! You're so scared right now!" Finn teased, pointing at him between peals of laughter.

Puck slumped back, looking decidedly pissed off. "I am not," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Yes, you totally are!" Finn sat up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh man, I got you so good!" He punched the air triumphantly. " _So good!_ "

"Fuck you, dude." Puck looked really pissed, and it made Finn feel only slightly guilty.

"Ah, relax man; it was only a little prank." He hopped back on the couch beside Puck, slinging an arm around his shoulders. He wasn't even remotely surprised when his arm was promptly shrugged off. "Besides, it was your idea to watch that dumb movie anyway."

"Fuck. You," Puck hissed, scowling petulantly, arms still folded tight across his chest.

"Oh, c'mon dude, don't be like that. I'm sorry." His laughter finally subsiding, he punched Puck playfully on the arm. "I'm sorry, okay? You woulda done the same to me and you know it. Now c'mon," he gave Puck a little shake. "It's time for _Smash_. You can be anybody you want."

Puck considered that for a moment. "Even Pikachu?" he asked, looking up at Finn hopefully.

"Even Pikachu," he agreed, slinging an arm back around Puck's shoulders. This time he wasn't shoved away.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A little bit of fluff, thanks for reading. T for language.**

 **Chapter 3**

They played _Smash Brothers_ for the better part of two hours before Finn set his controller down, stretching his long, gangly arms. "Dude, it's almost two AM. You better put those clothes away before your mom gets home."

That had been Mrs. Puckerman's contingency. As long as all the laundry got done while she was at work, Finn could sleep over all weekend. Secretly, Finn knew this wasn't a real contingency. Mrs. Puckerman was always happy to have him over because he kept Puck more or less in line. But still, it felt wrong to not do the one thing she asked of them.

So that afternoon, they'd taken everything to the laundromat on East Carlisle Street, paid only for a wash, brought the sopping wet mess back to Puck's house and hung it all to dry in his basement. With the remaining money, they bought a box of industrial strength nails. Then, in a stroke of pure genius, they managed to pull off their most epic prank to date—nailing that fag kid Hummel's lawn furniture to his roof! Sure, Hummel's super scary dad did manage to hit them with the garden hose while they ran for it, but it was so totally worth getting super-soaked in October to see the look on Hummel's faggy little face.

"Uh, I'll just put 'em away tomorrow," Puck said evasively before cursing loudly when one of the NPCs smashed his Pikachu with a hammer.

"Nah man, let's just get it done now," Finn said. Although he might not be the brightest guy around, Finn had seen the color drain from Puck's face and he knew _The Exorcist_ was still fresh on his mind. He briefly considered using that to startle Puck again, or maybe just tease him a little, like Puck had done to him so many times before. But deep down Finn was a good guy and he just didn't have the heart to do it. "C'mon," he said kindly, peeling the controller from Puck's hands. "I'll help you."

Sighing, Puck followed Finn to the top of the basement stairs, hesitating before going down after him. It was cool and drafty down there, causing goosebumps to spring up all along his arms. He stumbled forward, trying to play it cool while keeping as close to Finn as possible. They padded through the darkness, groping around for the string to the lone light bulb. Finn eventually found it and gave it a tug, illuminating the room eerily as the bulb swung from its chain on the ceiling.

When Finn looked around at him, Puck took an involuntary step back, heart hammering in his chest. The shadows dancing on Finn's face contorted his features, making him look less like his best buddy and more like the demon from _The Exorcist_. Puck screwed his eyes shut and tried not to imagine Finn puking all over him the way Regan blew chunks on Father Karras.

Finn watched sadly as the fear marred his best friend's face. Now he really felt like a jerkoff for teasing him earlier. "You know," Finn said gently, balking over what he wanted to say next. It was never a good idea to get too touchy-feely with Puck, unless of course you liked being called a pussy or getting punched. He busied himself with tugging clothes off the line and tossing them into the wicker baskets on the floor. "You know, it's okay to be scared. I'm not gonna make fun of you or anything."

"I'm not scared," Puck countered stubbornly, turning away from Finn. He was yanking down clothes by the armful, not caring about scattering clothespins all over the floor.

"Yes, you are," said Finn matter-of-factly, sorting through fistfuls of Puck's button-up shirts, several of which had been hand-me-downs from Finn himself. "But it's okay. I'm not gonna fuck with you again. I promise. Especially not down here in your creepy-ass basement."

Puck sighed, feeling his body relax in spite of himself with that promise. "Thanks," he said quietly. "You know, I would've fucked with you…If you were the one who was scared. And I wouldn't have apologized."

Finn smiled. "I know. It's okay."

Puck was silent for a moment. "No, it's not okay," he said finally, suddenly feeling very bad about himself. "I'm an asshole. Why do you even put up with me?"

Finn grinned at him fondly, and Puck was keenly aware that he didn't deserve his goofy friend's unwavering kindness. "Because," Finn reached forward and patted Puck's mohawk. "Because you're not just _any_ asshole. You're _my_ asshole."

Puck burst out laughing at that, feeling strangely relieved. He looked up at Finn, overcome with a sudden and overwhelming urge to get in his best friend's space. Finn watched him with raised eyebrows as Puck vaulted several laundry baskets, aiming a well-placed tackle at Finn's chest. But Finn was ready for him. Instead of letting himself get sacked, he caught Puck round the middle and swung him around, setting him down on his feet.

Stunned, Puck didn't move for a moment. He just stood there, pressed flush against Finn, whose arms were wrapped tightly around him, big hands splayed flat across his back. The warmth of it felt damn good, and Puck was vaguely aware that he couldn't remember the last time someone hugged him properly. He just wanted to stay there and not let go.

Clearly Finn felt the same way, because he remained stock-still, solid and warm, with his long arms holding tight to his smaller friend until Puck came back to his senses. He disentangled himself from Finn, clearing his throat loudly. "Let's, uh, let's get these clothes upstairs, yeah?"

Finn grunted in agreement, and together they collected the laundry baskets and pulled the light bulb string, shrouding the basement in darkness once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry this chapter's kind of short. There was no decent way to break up the next one. Thanks for sticking with me so far! T for language.  
**

 **Chapter 4**

By half past two they had all the clothes put away and were up in Puck's room, eating a veritable ton of snacks they'd taken from the kitchen and working their way through _Portal_ on Puck's computer. Finn was playing first, chewing on his lip as he steered the girl on the screen through a series of puzzles.

"No, no, no, shoot one higher onto the ceiling and then jump through the floor!" Puck was shouting, pacing back and forth behind Finn's chair.

"I can't do that! If I do that, the stupid gun thing up there is gonna blow my brains out. Damn it!" he shouted, frustrated, as his character was obliterated for the third time in a row.

Puck was rocking excitedly on the balls of his feet. "Here, let me, dude, I see the trick. I know what to do."

"Alright, alright," Finn said weakly. He got out of the chair and let Puck sit down. "Show me how it's done, then."

Puck obliged, clacking away on the keys, maneuvering the girl through several twists and turns until he got her past the spot where Finn kept dying. "See? You just had to move the block over there," he explained as he beat the level. "And then it's easy. See, Finn? …See?" When his friend didn't answer, Puck spun around only to find his room empty. Panic flooded him and suddenly, his mind was filled with images from _The Exorcist_. He envisioned his bed rising in the air, shaking with demonic possession like Regan's did. He shook his head to clear it, shooting out of his chair and running to the doorway. "Finn!" he shouted desperately, looking around for him.

Finn stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Puck bewilderedly. "Uhh…yeah?"

He'd never been so relieved to see Finn's trademark confused expression. He leaned against the doorway casually, trying to play it cool. "Uh, hey man, where you going?"

Finn cocked an eyebrow at him. "To the bathroom," he said slowly. "Is—is that allowed?"

"Well, yeah, but…why do you have to go downstairs?"

Finn stared at him. "Well, you see…you guys only have the one bathroom. And it's down here."

"I mean, you could always just, um, pee out the window," Puck suggested hopefully, pointing back to his bedroom.

Finn looked taken aback. "Pee out the—? What? No way, dude!"

"Here, I'll come with you then," Puck said in a very strained voice, taking the stairs three at a time and landing heavily beside Finn.

"You're gonna come to the _bathroom_ with me?" Finn asked incredulously, looking down into his friend's anxious hazel eyes.

"Well, not like, _in_ the bathroom. I'll just come along downstairs with you. Keep you company so you don't get bored," Puck explained in a voice he hoped sounded nonchalant. "Here, c'mon. Let's go." He put a hand between Finn's shoulder blades and gave him a little nudge. Together they walked through the darkened first floor; a confused Finn in the lead with Puck right on his heels.

Just then, it dawned on Finn. "Dude, you're not still scared from that movie, are you?"

"Who me? Nah, of course not," Puck said in that same strained voice, but when a car door slammed outside, he jumped, grabbing on tight to Finn's elbow before he could stop himself.

Finn grinned in understanding. "Yeah, you totally are!" he said, slinging an arm around Puck's neck and mussing up his mohawk. "Listen, you can guard the door while I pee and I'll make sure no demons get you, okay?" Puck smirked and gave Finn a half-hearted shove, but privately he was very grateful because that was exactly what he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write so far, and it really begins our slow burn. I appreciate all the traffic my story is getting and would love to hear from you!**

 **T for language**

 **Chapter 5**

Back in Puck's room, the boys were clearing a space on the floor for the fold-out mattress Finn slept on whenever he stayed the night. Finn shoved Puck's football gear under the bed while the smaller boy used a dirty shirt to plug the gap at the bottom of his drafty window. The night air had made the room freezing cold, and Finn wasted no time diving under the spare blanket he'd taken from the closet.

"You really gotta get that window fixed before winter, man," he said, shivering as he stretched out on his cot. He was a good eight inches too tall for the thing; his ankles hung off the end and rested on the floor. Back when they were younger, they would have just shared Puck's bed, but they were much too big for that now. Sometimes they still shared at Finn's, but only because the pull-out sofa in the living room was the perfect place to crash after a long night of Halo and Guitar Hero.

"Yeah, I know," Puck said, curling up under his blanket and blowing into his hands for warmth. "Mom said we'll get it fixed next payday."

"Hmm," Luckily it was too dark for Puck to see Finn's eyes roll. Mrs. Puckerman said that about a lot of things. ' _Next payday, next payday_.' She meant well, Finn knew she did, but sometimes she'd get a bit too carried away by her little drinking problem to follow through. He felt bad for Puck. ' _Next payday_ ,' his mom would say, but payday would come and go, and along with it went her promises. At least Finn had a mom who kept her word. They may be kind of poor and all, but Finn knew he had a mom he could always depend on.

"Are you excited for our game in Dayton next week?" he asked instead, changing the subject. It was their last regular season game and they were two of the few freshman who'd be starting; a fact that had really boosted their popularity at McKinley.

Puck nodded, rolling on his side to look down at Finn. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

"A little," Finn admitted. It'd be his first time starting, what with Johnson, their regular quarterback, having sprained his neck in that unfortunate cow tipping accident. After Johnson showed up to school in a cervical collar, Coach Tanaka had sought Finn out and told him he'd be starting and that he better not screw it up. "It's a lot of pressure."

"It'll be fine," said Puck. "There's really nowhere to go but up from here. Think about it, what's the worst that can happen? We end the season oh-and-ten instead of one-and-nine?"

Finn snorted. "That's true." The Titans really were a pathetic football team. He pulled his blanket over his head, trying to get warm. "'Night, dude."

As silence fell between them, Finn dozed, fantasizing about bringing the team to victory. In his mind's eye, he saw himself throwing the game winning touchdown, the guys hoisting him onto their shoulders while the crowd chanted ' _Finn! Finn! Finn!_ ' Then that hot cheerleader, Quinn Fabray, shimmied up to him, red and white pom-poms dancing under the stadium lights as she threw her arms around him and kissed him right there in front of everyone. That notion made his cheeks warm, so he rolled away from Puck to enjoy these thoughts privately.

Just as he was settling into a wistful fantasy involving Quinn Fabray, her Cheerios uniform and the janitor's closet at school, something crashed loudly outside. Finn barely registered it, but it was the sound of Puck fumbling for something under his bed that made him look over his shoulder. He turned just in time to find Puck on his knees in bed, clad only in a wife beater and his _Iron Man_ boxers, a baseball bat raised at the ready.

"Puck, what are you—?"

"Alright, that's it, you mother fucking demon!" Puck shouted, taking a very powerful practice swing with the bat. "The power of Christ compels you, huh? Well, wait 'til you taste the power of Moses, bitch!" He swung the bat again, narrowly missing his lamp. His eyes glinted in the low light, making him look slightly deranged.

"Dude! _Dude!_ Would you relax?" Finn shouted rolling out of the way just as Puck jumped down from his bed onto Finn's cot. He popped up quickly, ready to swing again. "Jesus Christ, man, stop it!" Finn ducked just as Puck swung for the fences.

"You're not possessing me, cocksucker!" Puck yelled adamantly, looking around frantically for a nonexistent demon.

" _Puck!_ " Finn tried again, but Puck was so distracted and wasn't listening to a word he said. He'd have to try something else to get his attention. Finn thought hard a moment until something came to him. "Dude, look out! It's behind you!" he shouted suddenly, pointing madly over Puck's shoulder.

"Huh? Where!" When Puck turned to look, Finn dove forward, grabbing him round the middle and tackling him hard onto the bed.

"Alright, that's enough out of you," Finn said, half frustrated half exasperated, as he wrestled the bat free from a squirming Puck's clutches and tossed it in the closet.

They found themselves grappling for the second time that night, but unlike their little sparring match from earlier, this one wasn't fun. Using his size to his advantage, Finn eventually managed—with great difficulty—to lay Puck out, holding him down with a hand on each shoulder. Puck was breathing heavily now, that manic glint gone from his eyes and replaced with a look of distress. Finn wasn't sure which look was worse.

They stayed like that until Puck stopped moving. "If I let you up, are you gonna be chill or go all psycho again?" Finn asked cautiously.

"The first one," Puck said in a slightly strangled voice.

He shot Puck a warning look before getting up, leaving him sprawled across the bed. He moved to look out the window, checking for the source of the crash that had set Puck off. "For the love of God, dude, it was a trashcan. A _trashcan_ fell over."

"So…it wasn't a demon, then." At least he had the good graces to sound somewhat embarrassed.

Finn rolled his eyes, dropping his forehead into his palm and shaking his head. "See? This shit right here, dude. This is why I don't like horror movies."

"…Sorry," said Puck, which Finn considered something of a win, as Puck normally wasn't one to apologize.

"There's no such thing as demons, man. It was just a movie. Here, look. I'll show you." Finn made a bit of a show walking around the room, looking under the bed, in the closet and behind the desk, as if searching for monsters. "See? No demons here. All clear. Think you'll be able to go to sleep now?" He knew he was being kind of mean, but he probably would have felt worse if Puck hadn't almost hit him in the head with a baseball bat.

Puck shrugged, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. He looked decidedly embarrassed and uncomfortable, which did make Finn feel a tiny bit better.

"Well? Are you going to be able to sleep or not?" he asked again, tapping a foot on the floor impatiently.

"I guess…" Puck said somewhat evasively, running a hand through his mohawk. He slowly got himself back under the covers and turned to look pointedly at Finn, who was still standing there waiting expectantly for an answer.

"You guess what?"

Puck continued to give him that significant look. "Well, I mean, maybe if you…you know…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"Maybe if I _what?_ "

Puck hit his fist on the bed in frustration. "Aw, c'mon man, don't make me say it!"

"Just spit it out!" Finn said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alright, fine!" Puck threw up his hands in defeat. "If you could…I mean, maybe if you came up here with me…I'd be able to go to sleep. Okay? There, I said it. You happy now?"

Finn felt himself blush. He was in a state of mild disbelief, shocked that Puck actually said it. Suddenly, all his confidence was gone. "L-like, on the bed?" he stammered.

Puck grunted and rolled his eyes but didn't give a definitive answer. He had too much pride for that.

Finn stared for another moment before willing his body into action. He bent down to pick his pillow and blanket up off the floor. "Er—yeah. Yeah, I could help you with that. Move over."

Puck looked equally surprised for a moment before doing as he was told, scooting over to make room for his friend. Finn slid in behind him, tossing his blanket over them both. He nudged Puck's shoulder, urging him to roll on his side. He then snaked one arm under his neck and wrapped the other across his chest, holding him tight. Puck was tense in his arms at first, but as they settled down, Finn felt him beginning to relax. As he held him, Finn felt an odd sensation in his chest; a sort of pleasurable ache, and he found he rather liked comforting his friend…maybe a bit more than he should. But there was something awesome about having his frightened buddy cuddled in his arms and knowing that he, Finn, was helping take those fears away. It all just felt too damn good. Who knew Puck would be all warm and surprisingly soft and that he smelled good too? Finn sure didn't. He'd never thought about it before. He pressed a cheek to Puck's head, enjoying the raspy feeling of the buzz cut against his skin.

"See dude? Nothing to worry about," Finn whispered, giving him a little squeeze. He wondered vaguely if this was more affection than Puck would be willing to tolerate, but he decided to test his luck anyway. He nuzzled his cheek against his friend's head again and surprisingly didn't get shoved off. "See? You're safe. I got you."

Puck was quiet. If a part of him wanted to tell Finn off for acting gay, it wasn't showing because he appeared to be enjoying this situation too much to care. "God, I'm such a pussy," he lamented, but that didn't stop him from looping an arm around Finn's and holding tightly to his wrist as if he was afraid to let it go.

"Nah, you're still a badass," Finn said, absently tracing his thumb back and forth along Puck's shoulder. He must have been doing something right because Puck was getting heavier and heavier in his arms as he melted into Finn's embrace. His friend's body was warm and solid, and holding him was making Finn's eyelids droop.

"…You sure?"

"Nobody questions your badassness, remember?"

Puck was silent for a while, but his grip on Finn's wrist didn't let up. He seemed to be enjoying the little rub on his shoulder too, because every time Finn showed signs of stopping, he made a little grunt of disproval until it started back up again. Then, just as Finn felt himself drifting peacefully off to sleep, Puck's voice jerked him awake.

"Hey dude, do you have one of those cross things?" he said, his voice quiet, fingers curling and relaxing contentedly on Finn's wrist.

"One of those what?"

"That Christian thing? Like the one Quinn's got?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, absently running his thumb across the planes of Puck's smooth shoulder.

"You know, like a Jesus necklace?"

"A Jesus necklace." Finn repeated, raising an amused eyebrow without opening his eyes or moving his head from where it rested against Puck's. The extent of his Christianity involved celebrating Christmas with his mom. He couldn't even remember the last time he set foot in a church, let alone put on a 'Jesus necklace.' "No, I don't. Why?"

"I just thought it might help." Puck yawned, turning his head to press his cheek into Finn's forearm. "In case of, you know, demons."

Finn laughed, which reverberated pleasantly through Puck's body. "You don't need a cross, bro. You're Jewish."

"I just thought maybe it would help to have all our bases covered." Puck's fingers tightened on Finn's wrist and the pressure felt really good.

"Nah, Jewish dudes don't need crosses to cover their bases. Especially badass ones like you," he promised, readjusting his grip across Puck's chest, pulling him, if possible, even closer against his body.

"'s that right?" Puck asked, his speech slurring. He was barely staying awake now. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. Now go to sleep, bro."

That must have appeased him enough because moments later, Puck's breathing had leveled out and his grip on Finn's wrist went slack, his fingers gently unfurling. Finn smiled faintly against Puck's mohawk before letting sleep overcome him too.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I don't know when we as a fandom decided that Puck's sister was going to be named Sarah. I'm pretty sure that was never mentioned in the show. If I'm wrong, someone please tell me. Anyways, Sarah's a nice name and it's fitting enough, so I'll go with it. This one's rated K or K+. Finn just has to mull some things over to set us up for next chapter.**

 **Chapter 6**

Finn awoke to late morning light streaming in through the window. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face into a pillow that wasn't his own. He cracked an eyelid open, confused for a moment until he remembered he was in Puck's bed. A faint blush crept to his cheeks as he recalled cuddling with his friend mere hours before. His mouth twitched into a half smile over the memory of Puck babbling about needing a crucifix. God, that _Exorcist_ movie had really messed him up good. Finn could swear he could still feel his wrist tingle where Puck had been clinging to it a few hours ago.

Finn couldn't stop himself feeling pleased over the events of last night. Sure, he wished Puck hadn't been so scared and everything; he knew what it was like to feel that way and he didn't wish it on his best friend. But still, it was nice having an excuse to cuddle with him. Puck was so warm, and he fit against Finn's chest so perfectly, not to mention he was so cute when he was being all vulnerable—

He shook his head to clear those thoughts, not wanting to dwell on what they could mean. He decided instantly to never mention anything about last night to Puck, ever. First off, Puck would probably punch him. Hard. Second, he was ninety-nine percent sure Puck would deny it and call him a homo. But then again, Finn couldn't really blame him. It'd be terrible if it ever got out that Puck was so scared from a dumb horror flick that he needed to curl up with his best buddy for comfort. It would be a huge blow to his carefully crafted badass reputation.

But still, the memories made Finn smile. He'd do anything to turn back time a few hours and be able to hold his buddy close again. To run a thumb across his shoulder and have him melt into his arms. To feel the rasp of his buzz cut on his cheek. To feel him curl his fingers around Finn's wrist as if the touch was the only thing keeping him grounded. Finn sighed. He wished he could say these things to Puck, but even though the two of them were best friends, they just didn't have that kind of relationship. It would only be a surefire way to make Puck uncomfortable and get him to punch Finn in the face.

Finn got up and pulled his clothes on. He could hear the muffled voices of Puck and his mom and sister floating up from the kitchen below and could smell breakfast cooking. He wasted no time going downstairs to join them.

"Good morning, Finn, my darling! Don't you look handsome today?" Mrs. Puckerman said fondly the moment he walked in. She held him at arm's length, taking in his appearance critically. "Look at you, you're so skinny! Aren't they feeding you enough in that school? You boys are wasting away. I keep saying it to Noah; they don't feed you kids enough what with all those sports they have you playing. Now come, sit, sit! Are you having three eggs or four today?"

With a slightly bemused smile, Finn let her usher him to what was always 'his' seat whenever he stayed over at Puck's. One thing he always liked about Mrs. Puckerman was that despite all her problems, she never let anyone go hungry. At Finn's house, the kitchen was off limits after dinner was cleaned up. At Puck's, everything was fair game at all hours as long as they didn't make too big a mess. He supposed that was just a thing about Jewish people or something.

No sooner had his butt hit the seat that Puck's little sister was climbing on his lap and getting right in his face, launching into a detailed discussion of everything she did at her sleepover last night. Stunned, Finn pulled his face back, and his eyes fell on Puck cooking at the stove across the room. Somehow, he looked kind of cute flipping pancakes with that spatula in his hand…

"Sarah, let Finn breathe, darling," Mrs. Puckerman said, pulling Finn from his thoughts. Grumbling, the little girl climbed back into her chair.

Puck came to the table carrying two large plates of pancakes and eggs. The boys made eye contact for a moment and Puck gave him a shy little smile. And unless Finn was entirely mistaken, he could swear Puck's cheeks turned faintly pink. Finn wanted to say something—anything—to him, but his words froze in his throat. Puck watched him, eyebrows raised, until mercifully, Mrs. Puckerman started speaking again, and Finn decided he'd imagined it.

"Boys, I'm very sorry if this conflicts with your plans but I'm going to need you to take Sarah to the Halloween party this afternoon," she said as she loaded Finn's plate with a veritable mountain of food.

"What? But mom!" Puck cried, looking extremely put-out. Sarah, on the other hand, was grinning.

"I'm sorry, but I'm working another double tonight! I need a nap if I'm going to be of any use there. You understand, don't you?" Puck frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. Finn looked away. He knew this trope, having heard it many times before himself. Single moms worked way too much, and sometimes they made promises they couldn't keep because work had to come first if they wanted to eat. "The party's at the mall. You can drop Sarah off at Mrs. Jones' for trick-or-treating and another sleepover afterwards. Beyond that, the day is yours, okay?"

"Ugh, mom! C'mon!" Puck half whined. "We're supposed to be going to Santana's tonight!"

"And you still will, after you take Sarah to the mall." She said firmly, giving him that warning mom-look.

"It's okay, bro," said Finn diplomatically. "We'll have enough time."

Mrs. Puckerman smiled. "Thank you both so much. You boys are wonderful."

Puck groaned, letting his chin fall dramatically into his hands.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Alright, this one's a T for masturbation and, of course, language. I might have to up this story's rating at some point. I've written ahead quite a bit and some of my stuff is borderline M. Ugh, it's a hard call.  
**

 **Thanks for sticking around!  
**

 **Chapter 7**

"We better not see anyone we know at this thing," Puck said warily, glaring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt forward so it cast his face in shadow. "We're totally gonna get our asses kicked if anyone recognizes us."

Finn wanted to disagree and tell him it was all going to be fine, but he just couldn't bring himself to lie like that.

Sarah, dressed as Dorothy from _The Wizard of Oz_ , had insisted that Puck and Finn dress up with her for the Halloween event. But Mrs. Puckerman put the kibosh on them wearing the costumes they'd made for Santana's party. For some reason, she didn't seem to think Finn going dressed as Moses and Puck as Jesus would be quite appropriate for a shopping mall in Ohio.

So they'd spent the last few hours trying to throw together makeshift costumes that didn't look totally gay. For Finn, they'd found an old pair of black pajamas in the bottom of Puck's closet. Then, after ransacking the neighbor's Halloween decorations for a bale of hay, they stuffed the sleeves and ankles with straw. An old black beanie and a piece of rope around the waist finished the look. For Puck, they'd glued his mom's old _I Love Lucy_ wig to the inside of his Cleveland Browns hoodie and a pair of cat ears they'd found in Sarah's dress up box to the outside. With a makeshift tail stapled to his sweatpants, they'd transformed themselves into the most pathetic bootleg versions of the scarecrow and cowardly lion anyone had ever seen.

"This is humiliating," Puck said, tugging a red curl of his 'lion's mane' over his eye and letting it spring back into place.

Finn stepped into the bathroom with him, peering at himself in the mirror. "Yeah, this is pretty bad," he agreed.

"We're in high school. We can't go out like this."

"I don't see a way out of it," said Finn, scratching at his wrist. The hay was getting kind of itchy.

"Let's just tell my mom," said Puck, turning to look up at Finn desperately. "We'll tell her we just can't do it. That it'll be too humiliating. She'll see our costumes and understand our circumstances, won't she?"

Finn shook his head. "I don't think so, dude. I think she'll get the camera and want to take pictures of us actually…"

Deciding they didn't want this memory immortalized on film for the rest of eternity, they headed out. Sarah was all smiles as they made their way down Murdock Avenue towards the mall. Puck had done her hair in braided pigtails, much to Finn's surprise and amazement. ("Well, who d'you think does her hair for school in the mornings?" Puck had snapped defensively.) She was skipping in her red ruby slippers, singing " _Follow the Yellow Brick Road,_ " and clutching Puck's old Optimus Prime action figure in her hand. Someone had to be the tinman, after all. The boys trailed behind her, keeping their heads turned away whenever a car drove by. Fortunately, nobody they knew bore witness to Puck in a red wig or Finn shedding little pieces of straw from his sleeves.

At the mall, they took Sarah around to all the different shops where the clerks gave her candy. Some of the older employees even gave Finn and Puck some too, complimenting them on being such sweet older brothers for making precious memories with their little sister.

"I'm not _sweet_ , I'm a badass," Puck spat bitterly, ducking behind an endcap in Sheets 'N Things when a high school aged employee walked by.

After trick-or-treating twice through the entire mall, they took Sarah to the atrium where several craft tables and activity booths had been set up. The place was swarming with dorky parents who were taking far too many 'precious' photos of their dumb kids in Halloween costumes. Finn and Puck hid on the outskirts of the group while Sarah worked her way through the crafts. Finn found it hilarious when Sarah tugged on Puck's arm, insisting his get his face painted with her. Begrudgingly, Puck allowed himself to be pulled over to a pretty young woman who painted whiskers on his cheeks to go with his pathetic lion costume.

Finally, it was late enough that Puck and Finn could drag Sarah away from a game of "Pin the Legs on the Spider" without feeling like complete jerks for cutting her fun short. They steered her out of the mall and walked her to her friend Anna's house, glad to be off babysitting duty. It was half an hour later before they made it back to Puck's, and they were already running late for Santana's party.

"Never. Again." Puck growled, peeling off his hoodie and struggling out of his pants the moment the made it over the threshold. "I'm _never_ getting roped into doing something like that ever again. Now c'mon. We gotta get a move on before all the alcohol's gone."

"Where? At Santana's party? I thought you said her cousin from Fort Wayne was buying?" Finn asked, stripping off the pajamas and shaking the hay out over the garbage. His wrists, ankles and neck were a little red and rashy from the straw.

Finn could see Puck's reflection shaking his head through the bathroom mirror as he scrubbed the face paint off. "She just texted me. He was only able to get her half the stuff he said he'd get."

"Why?"

"Dude got busted by some Hoosier cop for selling alcohol to minors. Can you believe that shit _?_ "

Finn snorted. He actually could believe it. Santana's cousin was an idiot, and like Santana, felt he was above the law. But Finn wouldn't dare say that to Puck. He knew Santana was Puck's best friend after him and insulting her would only piss him off. Secretly, Finn couldn't care less if there was alcohol at this party or not. But he knew enough to pretend to look disappointed anyway.

He heard the shower turn on and Finn stepped into the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for some kind of lotion for his itchy skin. He found a bottle of knock-of Aveeno from Walmart. Shrugging, he squirted some into his hands, sighing in relief as he spread it across his neck and wrists.

The bathroom was starting to heat up, and Finn looked down at Puck's discarded pile of clothes and then through the mirror at the shower curtain. His buddy was behind it, buck naked and soapy, and for some reason, that idea was very exciting to Finn. He glared at himself in the foggy mirror, feeling angry and somewhat guilty for having that thought. Seriously, Puck showered all the time after practice at school and Finn never gave two shits about it there, so why was he thinking about it now all of the sudden?

A moment later and the shower shut off, and Finn could see Puck's hand groping around for a towel. He stepped out, dripping wet with the thing tied loosely around his waist. Finn swallowed thickly, staring for slightly longer than he meant to before tearing his eyes away. Puck was looking at him curiously, his head cocked to the side and eyebrows raised. If he noticed Finn staring, he mercifully refrained from commenting.

"Your turn!" He said instead, jerking his head towards the shower as he left the room.

Finn cleared his throat, nodding awkwardly before getting in. He stripped his boxers off and threw them over the curtain rod, turning the water on cold. He stood under the icy jet for a moment, but that did nothing to put out the fire under his skin. As he began shampooing his hair, he shook his head at himself in disgust. Why on earth should he be popping a semi over his best friend? _Well, Puck_ is _kind of cute,_ the more indulgent side of his conscience whispered as he slowly lowered his hand and gripped himself tight. _But he's also a dude, and a ladies' man, and_ definitely _not a faggot_ , insisted the more realistic side angrily.

But eventually the indulgent side won out. He turned the heat up and settled into a rhythm, stroking himself up and down, stuffing the knuckles of his free hand into his mouth to keep from moaning. He pictured Puck in that towel, water droplets dripping down his chest as he looked up at Finn with those big hazel eyes. He imagined what it might be like to kiss him, running his hands across the raspy sides of his head only to tangle them roughly in his mohawk, pulling him in hard. He wondered what it would feel like to have Puck squirming under his hands, sweating and panting and writhing. He bet it would be fun as hell to pin him down and kiss his neck. After all, they always did like to wrestle…this would be like the greatest wrestling match of all time.

All these thoughts were going to his head, and Finn felt himself spiraling out of control. Just as he was getting dangerously close to finding a release, he heard footsteps enter the bathroom. Mortified, he turned away in case Puck decided to poke his head around the curtain like he'd done in the past.

"Dude! What the hell are you doing in there? Beating off? Hurry it up!" Puck shouted.

"I—I'm coming!" Finn called back, his voice oddly strangled. And it was actually the truth. He bit down hard on his knuckles, stars erupting behind his eyes as a rope of cum hit the wall. Breathing hard, he had to hang on to the soap dish to stop himself falling. The pleasure was so intense that for a moment, he forgot to feel ashamed of himself for getting off to the idea of doing questionable things to his best friend.

When he came back to his senses, he did his best to clean the shower wall before shutting the water off and grabbing himself a towel. He stepped out, wearing just the towel and a bemused smile, only to come face to face with a smirking Puck, already dressed in his Jesus costume.

"Had fun?" he asked with a knowing smile.

Finn could feel his cheeks burn but he did his best to play it cool. "Uhh, I guess? If you think taking a shower is fun, then yes I did."

Puck gave him a look that clearly said ' _Suuuuuure_.' "Alright, whatever, dude. Get dressed."

Five minutes later and Finn was in his Moses costume, looking like a beardless Charlton Heston from _The Ten Commandments_. Puck was waiting for him by the door, pulling his boots on, a homemade crown of thorns they'd made from vines in the backyard around his head.

"Bro, drink that," he said, gesturing to a can of beer next to him that he'd nicked from his mom's mini-fridge.

Shrugging, Finn picked it up and chugged down half of it. He pulled a face before handing it back to Puck. "I've never seen a Jesus with a mohawk before," he said.

"Shut up! I'm pretty sure Moses wasn't supposed to have a dopey face!" he retorted, grinning as he downed the rest.

"Ah, screw you!"

Laughing about their ridiculously blasphemous costumes, they tossed the empty can on the neighbor's lawn and headed out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So here's the first part of Santana's Halloween party. I had a lot of fun adding Santana and Quinn to this story. Rated T for language and underage drinking. Also I mean no offense to religious folks for Puck and Finn's taste in Halloween costumes. Thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 8**

The sun had already set by the time the boys made it to Santana's doorstep on Franklin Avenue in Lima Heights Adjacent. She pulled open the door wearing a slutty nurse costume and a scowl. Finn was ninety-nine percent sure that if he'd been born a girl, he'd have a snowball's chance in hell at being allowed out with that thing on. Santana grabbed them both by the collars of their robes and yanked them over the threshold.

"'Bout time you assholes showed up," she snapped.

"Nice to see you too, Santana," Finn retorted, feeling emboldened by his half can of beer.

"Shut it, Man Boobs!" Santana sneered. She grabbed Puck roughly by the neck and kissed him lewdly on the mouth. Finn scowled and looked away.

There was a pretty good turnout of people crammed into the Lopez's tiny house, most of them underclassmen and many of them already stumbling around drunk off wine coolers and natty light. _Sexy Can I_ was blasting from Santana's ipod docked on the stovetop and Finn scanned the room for Quinn Fabray. His heart fluttered as he spotted her by the kitchen counter talking to her friend Brittany. She was dressed as a sexy gypsy and he felt his face heat up as he looked her up and down. Brittany, in a red devil dress that Finn felt would be more appropriate on Santana, saw him and waved him over.

"Hi Finn, what're you supposed to be?" she asked pleasantly, handing him a peach flavored wine cooler from the dwindling stash in the fridge.

"Oh, hey Brittany, I'm Moses—"

"You're silly, Finn. That's not how the first president of the United States dressed. No one wore robes back in the fifteenth century."

"Right…" Finn said slowly, taking a swig from his wine cooler so he didn't have to respond. "Er—hi Quinn!" he said a little louder than he meant to, looking at her hopefully. She turned just as Puck appeared at Finn's elbow, a beer in hand and his arm around Santana's shoulders.

Quinn didn't look amused. "Are you two serious right now?" she asked darkly, her eyes narrowing dangerously as they darted between Finn and Puck.

"What?" asked Finn, shuffling his feet nervously. Quinn had this ability to make him feel five inches tall when she wanted to. Beside him, Puck was grinning nastily.

"Do you have any idea how offensive your costumes are?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip. "Especially you, Puckerman. How dare you make a mockery of my Lord and Savior?"

"We—we—" Finn wanted desperately to explain that they meant no offense, but Puck had already sidled forward and put an arm around Quinn's waist, his hand dangerously close to her ass. She sneered and shoved him off.

"Relax, baby. Jesus was a hot Jewish stud, just like me! If anything, I'm doing him more justice than any of the crap they show you in Sunday Sch— _Ouch!_ "

Quinn had wound back and slapped him hard across the face. Finn's eyes widened in shock. Puck, meanwhile, didn't look phased one bit. He merely rubbed his cheek, grinning suggestively at Quinn.

"Ooh, I like it when you're rough with me. Let me turn the other cheek for you."

"Wanky," breathed Santana.

"You're disgusting!" spat Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest and stomping away. Finn stared, bemused, at her retreating back.

"The Virgin Mary is a little holier-than-thou today," Santana said, her eyes flashing hungrily as she grabbed Puck by the front of his robe and pulled him into a wet kiss that looked like all tongue from where Finn was standing. Finn watched with raised eyebrows as her hands trailed down his chest, stopping just above his crotch. "Now c'mon Jesus, don't make me wait any longer for the Second Coming."

"Don't worry, baby, Jesus isn't the only one getting nailed tonight," Puck replied, grabbing her ass through her skimpy nurse uniform, and Finn was so mortified he had to look away.

Deciding it'd be best to just leave Puck and Santana to it, he drained his wine cooler in one long gulp and went off to comfort Quinn. As he searched the house for her, he wondered why he felt a sudden animosity towards Santana. Sure, she was a major bitch and everything, but she really hadn't done anything worse than her usual baseline behavior this time. A quiet voice in his conscience suggested that maybe it just wasn't cool seeing Santana put her damn hands all over Puck. But he had to stomp that voice out because why should he be anything but happy for his buddy getting his dick wet?

He decided he was jealous. Yeah, that was it. Puck had all the luck with girls. He was totally jealous that Puck was hooking up with a foxy girl like Santana while he was stuck chasing after an angry one like Quinn. He was a hundred percent definitely _not_ jealous of Santana. Definitely not. Even though that lucky bitch was hooking up with—

" _Stop it,_ " Finn whispered, giving himself a little shake.

He found Quinn sitting on the living room couch with her arms wrapped around herself. She was nursing a strawberry wine cooler and glaring at anyone who got too close.

"Uh—hey. Is this seat taken?" he asked almost shyly, gesturing to the spot next to her. She just glared and shrugged, so he cautiously sat down. "Listen…I'm really sorry if our costumes offended you. We were just trying to be funny. See, Puck and I throught—"

Quinn cut across him. "Why are you even friends with him? He's a jerk and a bad influence on you and you could do so much better!" she snapped, fixing him with her steely green eyes.

"I—hey, Puck's my best friend. And—and he may not be perfect, but he's a good guy. And he's really sweet when he wants to be." Finn thought about how Puck always let him be Player 1 when they were gaming, even if they were at Puck's house. A bad guy wouldn't be that generous, would he?

"Well, he's going to burn in hell," Quinn said matter-of-factly, sipping her drink petulantly.

"What? That's an awful thing to say!" said Finn, cringing at the thought of his best friend in hell, scared and crying and burning. It was a terrible thing and it hurt to think about it. He rubbed his forehead to clear it; he was starting to feel a little foggy from the wine cooler.

"Well, it's true."

Finn didn't think it was true at all, but he decided it would probably be best to divert the conversation off Puck. "So, uh…how's Cheerios practice going?"

That seemed to be a good idea because Quinn gave him a wide smile. The real kind. The kind that reached her eyes and made her look beautiful. "Coach says if I can perfect my full layout twist dismount I'll be in the running for head cheerleader next season!"

"That's great!" said Finn excitedly, and he meant it. He really wanted great things to happen for Quinn. "Coach says I could be starting QB next year if we win our game in Dayton this week."

"Oh really? That's wonderful," Quinn smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her look was very calculating, and Finn wasn't quite sure why, but it didn't really matter because of what she said next. "Listen, Finn, you're really sweet. It was nice of you to come find me and try to make me feel better. Maybe you should take me out some time, just the two of us." She laid a hand on his wrist.

"Like on a date? I-I, um—yeah!" Finn stammered, unable to believe his luck. Her hand felt nice on his skin, small and dainty. But it didn't make his heart feel full like last night when Puck held his wrist in a death grip. "Would you—uh, would you maybe like to go to that indoor mini-golf place in the mall next Friday? A-and Breadstix?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Quinn said, batting her long lashes at him.

They spent the next half hour talking, and Finn was feeling really confident and awesome. Quinn seemed to think so too because she was smiling and laughing at everything he said. He couldn't wait to tell Puck he'd scored a date with Quinn Fabray! His mind kept wandering back to Puck, even as Quinn told him about this super dangerous stunt Coach Sylvester was making the Cheerios do. Puck was probably balls deep in Santana right about now. Finn pictured it, Puck's strong arms wrapped around her shoulders; kissing her deeply as he looked down with those pretty hazel eyes. It was only slightly disturbing that he was picturing everything from Santana's perspective…

"Finn? _Finn!_ Are you even listening to me?"

"Wha—yeah! Of course I am! Coach Sylvester's making you jump through hoops of fire—"

"Hey, Finn, there you are, man! I was looking all over for you!"

He looked over his shoulder in time to see a very drunk Puck barreling towards them, pulling a giggling Santana by the hand in his wake. He flopped on the couch, landing halfway across Finn's lap. Santana, who was uncharacteristically giddy, stumbled over and knocked Quinn to the side. Quinn moved her drink away just in time before it spilled all over her beautiful gypsy dress.

"Uh, hey there, buddy," Finn managed to eke out as Puck threw his arms around his neck, laying his head on his shoulder. His homemade crown of thorns dug rather painfully into Finn's jaw.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Puck asked very loudly, readjusting himself so he was even more in Finn's lap. Santana giggled, wedged between the boys and an annoyed looking Quinn.

"Uh, no," Finn said slowly, trying not to squirm despite his body finding this whole thing very exciting. "But you didn't have to, I—I already know you do." He put his arms around Puck and slapped him on the back in a manner that he hoped looked like they were just two drunk bros hugging it out.

"That's why you're the best!" Puck shouted, squeezing Finn so tight it hurt. "See Santana?" He nudged her with his knee. "That's why Finn's the best. He _already knows_ I love him!"

The Hispanic girl shrugged, a Cheshire cat grin plastered across her face. Beside her, Quinn looked particularly disgusted, clearly not appreciating this invasion of her personal space. "Yes, he definitely has a lot of love stored in those cottage cheese nipples of his," Santana said nastily.

Finn bristled and Quinn gave her a scathing look. Puck merely laughed and shook his head. "Nah, Finn's nipples are fine. They're just as nice as yours are, Santana."

"Wait, hold up," said Santana, nearly slapping Quinn in the face as she threw up a hand. "You've seen Finn's _nipples?_ And you didn't turn to stone?"

Cheeks burning, Finn opened his mouth to tell Santana to fuck off, but Puck was already talking. "It didn't turn _all_ of me to stone, if you know what I mean, just a certain part actually—"

" _Ew!_ Oh my god! Alright, that's enough, everybody up!" Quinn shouted, pushing a giggling Santana off her and getting roughly to her feet. Puck nearly fell to the floor but Finn braced him with a hand on the shoulder. "You two are disgusting," she said venomously, pointing her finger accusingly between Puck and Santana. "Especially you, Puckerman! I'm leaving! And Finn…" her voice took on a gentler tone as she got on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "I'm really looking forward to Friday with you."

Finn felt like he could float away. Before he could think of a reply, Azimio Adams, who was dressed very convincingly as Mr. T, bounded into the room holding his cell phone over his head.

"My brother's bringing over a thirty rack!" he yelled to a chorus of cheers.

Santana looked very relieved. "Oh thank god! Looks like I have a little more time before busting out my secret medicine. Quinn, by the way, you were _so_ right."

"About what?" spat the other girl, who already had her jacket on and was texting her dad for a ride.

"I was scared my party would be totally lame after my cousin got busted halfway through the beer run. But then I did what you said to do."

"I'm probably going to regret this, but what did I say?" Quinn hissed, putting a hand on her hip.

"You're always saying I should pray more. So I did. I got down on my knees and prayed to Jesus. And look! All my prayers were answered!" Grinning rudely, she slapped Puck on the ass, the implications of her words hanging heavily in the air.

Quinn's face turned a deep shade of red as her eyes darted between Puck and Santana. Her mouth formed a thin line and she looked like she really wanted to yell but couldn't come up with the proper words to transmit her level of anger. Instead, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the house, her gypsy bangles clinking merrily on her wrists. All the while, Finn stood there with his mouth agape because he was just too plain mortified to close it.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So here's part two of Santana's party. T for language and underage drinking. Of course there's some fluff squeezed in there too.**

 **Chapter 9**

Azimio's older brother showed up thirty minutes later with not only a case of Natural Light, but two forties of malt liquor, a fifth of Bacardi and a liter of vodka that smelled like paint thinner. Finn didn't really want another drink, but he also didn't want to look lame, so he accepted the beer Puck pressed into his hands and took a sip whenever the liquor came his way.

The party was growing steadily more boisterous as people shouted over Santana's blaring iPod. Most of the girls were giggly and sloppy at this point, and the boys were loud and rambunctious. There was a messy game of beer pong at the kitchen table, flip cup on the counter, and Finn only narrowly avoided getting roped into a game of quarters in the living room. Instead, he watched as Puck, Santana and Brittany played and got progressively more and more intoxicated.

After the game, his three friends were well beyond buzzed and majorly into drunk territory. They could barely keep themselves upright so Finn sat them safely on the carpet. He tried to listen to whatever Puck was shouting about above the cacophony of noise around them.

"And then—and then we nailed his lawn furniture to the fucking roof!" he was saying, hanging on to Finn's shoulder for support. "All of it. Table, chairs, even that gay little umbrella thing. And we used these diesel fucking nails too. They had to be, like, _this_ long." He held his hands up to show how big they were, but lost his balance and flopped into Finn's side.

Santana was doubled over laughing with her head in Brittany's lap. "Oh my god, that's fucking great," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"But then his dad caught us and hit us in the face with the hose." Puck had been unable to right himself after falling over, and was now merely bracing himself on Finn's thigh by a forearm. Finn stayed perfectly still. He was acutely aware of Puck's proximity, but had no desire to push him off.

"Old Man Hummel is a scary son-of-a-bitch," Santana mused pensively, and Finn watched her subtly walk her fingers across Brittany's ass. He didn't know which was more exciting; the girls practically feeling each other up in front of him or the fact that Puck's hand was dangerously close to his dick.

They paused to take a swill from the Bacardi when it was passed to them. Santana, Brittany and Puck each took long gulps, but Finn faked it by keeping his lips pressed tight together and only allowing a tiny bit of the burning liquid into his mouth.

"He is a scary mother fucker," Puck agreed. "He kept telling us what we'd done was a 'hate crime' while blasting us with the damn hose. But it was so worth it. It's not gonna be easy getting those nails out, let me tell you."

"Imagine if he'd caught you," said Santana. She was slyly working her hand under the hem of Brittany's devil dress. Finn couldn't take his eyes off the lesbian spectacle in front of him while still enjoying the pressure of Puck's warm body leaning on him.

"We'd probably be sex slaves to his freaky homo son right about now," said Puck, his head lolling on Finn's shoulder.

Santana pulled a face. "Yeah, Lady-Face Hummel is a fucking whack job. You should see how he's decorated his goggles for science lab. Like, come on. We get it, you're a queer. Doesn't mean you have to bedazzle _everything!_ "

Finn winced, feeling something stir unpleasantly inside him. He wasn't sure he liked talking about Hummel so derisively, and he already felt kind of bad for his role in the lawn furniture prank. He shifted suddenly, shrugging Puck off of him, maybe a bit more roughly that he meant to. Puck looked up at him with his eyebrows raised, clearly surprised at being pushed off his comfortable spot against Finn's side. Finn caught his eye and gave him a pointed look.

Puck opened his mouth to say something, but Finn never found out what because Santana suddenly pulled her hand out of Brittany's underwear and staggered to her feet. The boys looked up at her, perplexed.

"Y'all motherfuckers ready for Nurse Santana's special medicine?" she shouted loudly to the room at large. A chorus of cheers met her words.

She sashayed off to the kitchen and Finn openly stared as her tight ass walked away. He was then distracted by something pressing into his side. Tearing his eyes away from Santana, he was surprised to find Puck leaning on him again. He was looking up at Finn with those heart-melting hazel eyes, his expression borderline apologetic. That was odd because Puck never looked guilty, and he certainly never looked sorry. Yet here he was, his face all innocent and hopeful—and dare Finn think it, but _cute_. And Finn found had no choice but to smile. Puck grinned back at him, shoulders sagging, looking almost relieved. And in a further act of unpredictability, he threw his arms around Finn's shoulders, burying his face in his neck.

"I love you, man. I really do," he mumbled into Finn's shirt. And unlike when he shouted it before while sprawled across Finn's lap, this time he sounded so honest and sincere. It kind of made Finn's heart hurt.

Finn blinked slowly, feeling very taken aback. Puck wasn't exactly known for his cuddly nature, and Finn knew it was only the alcohol making him act this way. But still, his vulnerability felt so real and it was making Finn get a little choked up. He gently patted his drunk friend on the shoulder, letting his hand linger on the back of his neck right where his mohawk kicked out. "I…love you too, man," he whispered, giving his neck a little squeeze.

He was vaguely aware of how gay this probably looked, but the desire to stretch this moment out for as long as possible seemed way more important. It wasn't until everybody in the kitchen started screaming their heads off that Puck and Finn sprang apart. Pucks eyes were downcast, his cheeks pink-tinged and a little smile playing on his lips. He looked so adorable like that and Finn could have stared at him forever, but that wasn't an option. Santana had strutted back into the room carrying a tray over her head.

"Alright, bitches! You better take all your pills or Nurse Santana's gonna be very upset!" Finn watched as she bent over, passing around little medicine cups off the tray.

He was surprised to find gummy bears in the little cup she pressed into his hands. Warily, he popped one in his mouth, but then his whole face started to burn and he nearly spat it across the room. " _Shit!_ What's _in_ these?" he yelled, forgetting all about Puck's cute face and focusing completely on the burn in his own.

Puck grinned up at him. "Barton's," he said, downing his whole cup in one go.

" _What?_ "

"Vodka. She soaked the gummy bears in it. Try the red ones, they're the best."

Finn refrained from asking how he could possibly know the red ones were the best when he just ate them all at once. Gingerly, he fished out a red gummy bear and bit its head off. He pulled a face, which only made Puck throw his head back and laugh. "Urgh, no. Here, you have them," Finn said, dropping the bear's body back in the cup and thrusting it into Puck's hands.

"Suit yourself," said Puck, knocking back Finn's entire cup.

Clearly, giving Puck his cup of gummy bears had been the wrong move because in the ensuing half hour, Puck reached a new level of intoxication. Finn had a hell of a time wrangling him. Puck had gone from a giggly, stumbly drunk to a full-on tornado of destruction. He spilled soda all over the kitchen counter narrowly missing Santana's iPod. He tried to pee in a potted plant, and Finn had to yank his hands out of his pants and steer him to the bathroom. He got in a fight with Azimio, and Finn had to pull him away before he got himself killed. But it was when he tripped and nearly put a foot through Santana's abuelita's ceramic statue of the Virgin Mary that Finn knew it was time to leave.

"Alright, that's it, Jesus, you're cut off. Time to head home," Finn said, grabbing Puck by the shoulders and steering him through the throng of drunks to the front door.

"What? But I'm having fun!" Puck protested as Finn forced him to sit on the stairs and helped him shove his feet in his boots.

"I know you are, but you're a little too sloppy right now."

"Hey, I'm not sloppy!" Puck argued, tipping to the side and smacking his head on the banister. "Ow."

Finn snorted as he struggled to lace up Puck's boots. "Of course you aren't. But it's my job as your best friend to get you out of here before you make an ass of yourself—well, a bigger ass than you've already made so far."

"You think I'm an ass?" Puck looked up at him with a great deal of concern in his wide hazel eyes. Finn couldn't help laughing.

"Don't worry about it, dude. Now come on, let's get you home." He grabbed his buddy by the upper arms and hauled him to his feet.

"Ow, my _head_ ," Puck moaned, stumbling forward, his arm snaking around Finn's waist for balance.

"Easy does it, Stumbles," Finn teased gently, pulling him out the door. His skin practically tingled where Puck had latched onto his hip. "The cold air will do you good."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Woohoo update day! Okay, this one miiight be dancing into M territory. But I think it's still T. I'm not the best with ratings. There is a good deal of sexual stuff in this chapter (and language), which of course made it super fun to write. I hope it's as fun to read. Let me know if I need to up the rating. Enjoy!  
**

 **Chapter 10**

He kept an arm around a very tipsy Puck as they zigzagged their way down Franklin Avenue. The streets were dark, but Lima Heights was still noisy at this hour. The kids were now back indoors, but there was plenty of music and loud voices flitting into the street from late night Halloween parties. The boys walked side by side, Puck stumbling and laughing and chattering about how fun the party had been. His arm was still around Finn's waist for balance, and the sensation of Puck's fingers curling around his hip was sending jolts of pleasure directly to Finn's cock.

"Why you so _squirmy_ , dude?" Puck asked, leaning heavily into Finn, causing the taller boy to stutter-step and barely keep them both upright. He dug his fingers in even more, grinning as if he knew exactly what kind havoc it was wreaking in Finn's pants.

"I'm not squirmy!" Finn protested. The strange sensations he'd been feeling all day were starting to come to a head and he was getting very edgy. He tightened his grip on Puck's arm, steadying him when he nearly tripped on the sidewalk in front of the laundromat on East Carlisle. "Guess what dude?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"What?"

"I got a date with Quinn Fabray."

"Really? No shit, that's awesome! When did that happen?" He made to give Finn a congratulatory slap on the chest but missed, hitting him in the stomach instead.

"I talked to her when you were uh—fucking Santana."

Puck grinned slyly, his head thumping into Finn's shoulder as they walked. "I didn't fuck her, actually."

"No?" Finn looked down at him, trying his best to school the blatant curiosity off his face.

"No, I just ate her pussy," he said, waving a hand casually in the air.

Finn swallowed thickly at that. "Oh really?"

In his mind's eye, he imagined Puck with his head buried between Santana's legs. She had her head thrown back and was moaning in ecstasy until suddenly, her beautiful Hispanic features began to morph. She was becoming bigger, taller, and her hair shortened until she was completely replaced by Finn himself. Now Puck had his cheeks hollowed around Finn's cock, looking up at him with those pretty hazel eyes as he sucked him for all he was worth. The mental image made Finn weak in the knees as his cock twitched achingly in his jeans.

Puck smiled. "Oh yeah, that's why she was in such a good mood today," he said proudly, keeping those damn fingers of his curled deliciously into Finn's hip. The sensation was almost making him delirious and he fidgeted under the electric feel of Puck's hand. Mercifully, his buddy failed to notice anything. "So when are you and Quinn going out?" he asked.

"Next Friday. I'm taking her to mini-golf and Breadstix."

"That's awesome, dude!"

A beat passed as Finn steered his tipsy friend onto Gilboa Avenue. Unable to contain his curiosity, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "What, ah—so what's that like anyways?"

Puck looked up at him incredulously, nearly losing his balance again. "What? Going on a date?"

"No, not going on a date. I mean…what's it like eating a girl out?"

"Oh!" said Puck, grinning. "That. It's awesome. 'Specially if you like your hair pulled because that's how you know you're doing a good job." He reached up and grabbed a fistful of Finn's hair, giving it a playful tug.

"Hey!" Finn shouted, swatting his hand away. But Puck's touch had already sent that pleasurable electric feeling shooting through his body again. He swallowed thickly before asking his next question. "What about…you know, blowjobs? What're those like?"

Puck looked up at him slyly. "Oh, well now _those_ are the best!"

"Have you ever—?" Finn began before stopping himself. He'd been about to ask _'Have you ever given one?'_ but had lost his nerve. Even drunk, Puck would probably find a way to kill him for even thinking that.

"Have I ever what?" Puck asked innocently. He was staring at Finn hard, his lips slightly parted, and Finn had this odd feeling that even though Puck was hammered, he knew exactly what Finn had been about to ask.

"Never mind," said Finn, a bit too quickly.

"Tell me," urged Puck, still staring at him hard.

"I said forget it!" Finn snapped and Puck looked a little taken aback by his tone. "Look we're here," he said weakly.

He steered his drunk friend to the doorstep of number eighteen and helped him dig through his pockets in search of the house key. The moment they were back inside, Puck staggered into the living room and collapsed face down on the couch with his boots still on his feet.

"Bruh, I'm so drunk," Puck lamented, his voice muffled by the couch cushions.

"Oh no you don't," said Finn. He grabbed Puck by the upper arm and hauled him to his feet. He could not leave Puck passed out drunk on the sofa for his mom to find when she came home from work. She would flip out and probably kill them both if she ever found out Puck ignored curfew and drank half his body weight in booze.

"Aw, c'mon man, be cool, be cool," said Puck, staggering as Finn pulled him into the bathroom and shoved his toothbrush in his hands.

"Brush," said Finn, "Now." He was feeling strange. Edgy and restless and… horny? All these thoughts swam in his head—thoughts involving blowjobs and kissing and _other boys_ , well, not so much other boys but just Puck, really—and they were making him so wound up.

Puck cocked an eyebrow at him "Yes sir," he said, giving him a sly smile.

When he was done with his teeth, Finn pulled the crown of thorns off his head and flung it into the living room and helped him yank the Jesus costume up over his head. With the robe discarded in a heap on the floor, the Jewish boy stood before him wearing nothing but his jeans, his boots and a knowing smirk.

"What now, boss?" he asked cheekily, standing proudly with his hands on his hips, and Finn couldn't stop his eyes raking over Puck's shirtless body.

 _This is stupid,_ he told himself, frustrated. How many times had he seen Puck shirtless in the locker room? A lot. And how many times had he given a shit before now? Zero.

Finn cleared his throat loudly. "Pajamas," he grit out. "Go upstairs and get your pajamas on." It took a great deal of effort to tear his eyes away from Puck's perfect chest and abs.

"But I don't want to go to bed yet. I'm not even tired!" He sounded so petulant that it would have been funny if Finn wasn't so high strung.

"I didn't say you have to go to sleep!" said Finn, rolling his eyes and grabbing his own toothbrush. "Just get changed. I dunno, fire up _Portal_ or something _._ But don't beat too many levels without me!" he added hastily. "I'll be up soon."

"I'll bet you will be," Puck said with a smirk, his eyes flicking to Finn's crotch and back up, causing Finn to blush an unusual shade of scarlet. Puck made to leave, but hesitated a moment in the doorway.

"What?" said Finn, pausing with the toothbrush halfway to his mouth.

"There's uh—there's still no demons up there, right?" he asked in a casual yet strained voice, jerking his thumb towards his bedroom.

The comment was both so offhand and yet so sincere that Finn almost laughed. "No dude, it's fine. Go," he said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Finn listened as Puck's staggering footsteps got further and further away before he splashed some cold water on his face. He glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, shaking his head hard, trying to clear it. _This had gone on far enough,_ he told himself. He willed his brain to think about girls, any girl—Quinn, Santana, even that Rachel chick from English class who was kind of hot even though she was _so annoying_ —or anyone who wasn't Puck, really. He pictured Santana's ass in that skimpy nurse's uniform, Brittany's legs in that slutty red devil dress, Quinn's tits in her sexy gypsy outfit…They were all so hot, so why did his mind keep looping around to Puck again? It wasn't right.

"Stop it, Finn," he whispered sternly to his reflection. He glanced around the bathroom. The memory of jerking off to thoughts of his best friend only hours ago flooded his mind. He shook his head in disgust. Somehow, his dick was now straining in his jeans as though he'd never even touched it. Though he tried desperately to think of girls, all he could picture was Puck on his knees with a cock in his mouth, or Puck laid out on his back writhing in pleasure, pleasure that Finn was somehow expertly giving him. It was sickening, and yet so awesome and hot at the same time.

"God damn it," he hissed angrily as he pictured Puck standing shirtless in front of him like he had been just moments ago. Before he could stop, he reached down and rubbed himself through his jeans. In his imagination, his mohawked friend was biting his lip, looking up at him flirtatiously.

' _What now, boss?'_ this Fantasy-Puck asked again and again. And he stepped forward, pressing his lips to Finn's. Fireworks shot off in Finn's mind as he imagined Puck's tongue swirling with his, his fingers curling on his hips. Even in his imagination Puck's touch could sear his skin. Biting his lip, Finn gave himself another good rub through his jeans, his arousal getting close to that point of no return.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no—" he heard himself say. This chaotic feeling could only mean one thing. Finn bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to stop the unplanned orgasm from ripping though his body. _Coach Tanaka in a Speedo! Coach Sylvester giving you a lap dance! Lauren Zizes doing porn—!_ He used every ounce of willpower he had to tear his hand away from his junk.

He nearly collapsed, lightheaded, but somehow it worked. His whole body was on edge but at least he hadn't gone and made a fool of himself by creaming his pants in his best friend's bathroom. He'd simply have to kill himself if that ever happened…

He looked at his edgy and high-strung countenance in the mirror, holding up his fists and shadowboxing at his reflection. _Stop it with this gay shit, dude_ , he told himself resolutely. _Enough is enough_. With a stern nod, he pulled on his PJs and gathered up the discarded costumes from the floor. All the while, his conscience was giving him a little pep talk. _You're gonna go upstairs, and you're gonna go right to bed. Absolutely_ no _funny business. None at all._

But another part of his conscience reminded him that Puck had spent a good part of the evening hanging off his arm and telling him loudly how much he loved him. If that was anything to go by, he thought as he crept upstairs a moment later, maybe there would be a little more funny business coming his way…


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Oh boy, here I go writing my first real slash scene between these two! I'm so excited to share it with you guys. It was fun to write. This and the next chapter are super long but I couldn't break them up any other way. Rated T (borderline M) for obvious reasons. Please tell me what you think!**

 **Chapter 11**

Finn nearly took a header tripping over Puck, who was sprawled out haphazardly on the bedroom floor. It looked like he'd lost his balance trying to get to bed, and had given up with half his body on the little cot they'd left out for Finn the night before.

"Puck, whoa! Whatcha you doing down there?" Finn asked, just managing to side step in time before tripping over his friend.

"I've fallen and I can't get up!" Puck announced loudly, his whole body wracking with silent giggles. It was apparent that he was still quite drunk.

"I see that," said Finn, kneeling beside him on the cot. Puck was still in his jeans, one boot still resolutely on his foot while the other looked like he'd given up halfway through trying to take it off. He was still shirtless, his arms and torso covered in goosebumps from the room's cold draft. Puck was probably too drunk to care, but Finn found himself vaguely wondering how it would feel to run his fingers over all that sensitive skin…

 _Stop it,_ his told himself. He'd sworn downstairs that he'd cut it out with all the gay shit..

"I had a wardrobe malfunction," Puck explained, his cheeks pink-tinged from laughter. He shifted and put his booted feet in Finn's lap.

"Did you now?" Finn asked, glancing down at the boots. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Uh, help me out?" said Puck, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Finn rolled his eyes but helped him pull off his boots and socks anyway. "You wanna know what else?" Puck asked, wiggling his finger so Finn would lean in, as if he was about to divulge some huge mind-blowing secret.

"What else?" Finn asked, chuckling. He knew it was probably going to be something stupid, but he turned an ear conspiratorially nonetheless.

"I'm very drunk," Puck whispered, before rolling on his side and breaking down into another huge fit of laughter.

Finn snorted, shaking his head. "You're beyond drunk, buddy, you're wasted. And ridiculous."

Puck didn't deny that. Instead he fixed Finn with a hard look, suddenly serious and—was he being flirtatious? Finn mentally slapped himself. _Of course he's isn't. Don't be stupid. Just forget it and go to bed_ _like you said you would._

"So," Puck was saying coyly, "are you gonna help me with my jeans or what?"

"Or what!" said Finn, his eyes widening. He looked away in embarrassment. He could feel that tell-tale blush creeping up his neck. "Come on now, you're a big boy. I think you can manage your own pants."

"But it'd be so much more fun if you did it for me," Puck said, grinning provocatively.

 _No. Stop,_ warned his conscience.

Finn gulped, his eyes flicking from Puck's face down to his fly. It was obvious his friend knew damn well what he was doing, what with that knowing smirk plastered across his face. Finn felt his cock twitch traitorously and he prayed Puck wouldn't notice. He had absolutely no way of hiding anything in his stupidly thin pajama pants.

"C'mon, dude," Puck urged with a seductive edge to his voice. "You know you want to help me."

"And why would you think that?" Finn countered, gulping thickly and averting his eyes.

"'Cause I'm super cute," Puck said simply. Finn could feel those hazel eyes boring into him.

He took a deep, calming breath. _Don't respond to that,_ willed his conscience. _He's drunk and he doesn't know what he's saying. He'd be so embarrassed if he knew._

Puck put a hand on Finn's knee, making him look up into blazing eyes. "I _am_ cute, right?" he asked again, blinking slowly. Damn, he was good.

 _Just tell him 'no.' Tell him, damn it!_

"Yes," said Finn, which earned a bug smile from Puck.

 _Dumbass!_ screamed his conscience.

"Glad you agree!" said Puck cheerfully, splaying himself out. "So come over here and help me, then."

 _Don't do it. Don't do it, man. This is the shit you swore you weren't gonna do—_ A bolder side of Finn's conscience came in like a freight train and squashed that nagging voice. Before he lost his nerve, Finn reached out a trembling hand to undo Puck's belt and fly. As he put shaky fingers in his belt loops and tugged them down his hips, he froze. Puck looked like he was barely containing another fit of laughter. He was totally up to something…

"Dude? What the fuck?" he said suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

Puck burst out laughing, choking out a few words that sounded an awful lot like "Full commando!"

Finn jumped back, holding his hands up as though he were surrendering to an invisible cop. "Oh my god, dude, no!"

"What? Don't you want to see Puckzilla?" he asked, grabbing himself lewdly. Finn might have noticed the implication if he hadn't immediately covered his burning face with his hands.

" _Dude!_ No thank you!" cried Finn, even though every neuron in his brain was screaming a firm and resounding _Yes!_ Puck chuckled and went to peel off his jeans himself, and it took every ounce of willpower Finn had not to peek through his fingers and steal a look at whatever his buddy was packing. After a moment, he chanced opening one eyelid, only to come face to face with Puck, who'd mercifully pulled on his PJs and was up on his knees in front of him. "W-What're you doing?" Finn heard his own voice stammer.

Puck smiled, his eyes flashing with…desire, maybe? Lust? Finn wasn't quite sure. Puck placed his hands on Finn's trembling forearms. Goosebumps sprang up beneath his fingers even though his skin was burning hot. Puck's face was close, too close, his nose mere inches from Finn's. The proximity was overloading his senses. He was so close that Finn could practically smell him—it was a mixture alcohol and Irish Spring soap and something else that was making Finn's pulse quicken.

"Puck…" he said slowly, feeling his willpower unravelling.

"Just tell me to stop and I will," Puck whispered, his voice thick and heady as his breath ghosted across Finn's face. He waited patiently, tracing circles with his thumbs on Finn's forearms, watching while the cogs slowly turned in the taller boy's brain. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked gently.

Finn hesitated."…No," he grit out, talking over the feeble voice of his conscience that tried to tell him to say otherwise.

"That's what I thought." Puck smiled smugly, trailing his fingertips feather light down Finn's arms, letting them come to rest on his hips.

Finn held his breath. He was nervous, anticipating Puck's next move with a streak of excitement laced with fear. His heart thudded in his chest, and he trembling under the warmth of his friend's hands. Then Puck grinned wickedly, curling his fingers and pulling Finn against him. All the oxygen seemed to escape the room as their lips met in a soft, tentative, exploratory first kiss. At the same time, Finn's crotch pressed flush to Puck's thigh and that pleasurable friction made stars erupt behind his eyes. His lips parted in a gratified moan, and Puck took that opportunity to deepen their kiss.

Every nerve ending in his body was blazing. Puck's hand found its way to the back of Finn's neck, pulling him closer. The feel of his tongue and soft lips made Finn almost delirious. He pressed himself harder into Puck, embarrassed but unable to stop himself. There was no way Puck could mistake the bulge in Finn's pajama pants now. His arousal was undeniable. There was no annoying voice in his conscience now. Every cell was focused on the present; Puck's lips against his and his skin under his hands. Nothing had ever felt so right.

"Oh my god…" he whined, wondering vaguely why they'd never tried any of this before. Every flick of Puck's tongue was sending jolts of pleasure directly to Finn's cock. Tentatively, Finn roamed a hand across his friend's body, travelling from the nape of his neck across his chest and down the bumps of his abs. The other hand found its way to his mohawk, fingers tangling tightly in the strip of hair as he felt Puck's tongue explore its way through his mouth.

It was a lot of stimulation for Finn to deal with. He was starting to throb as he wantonly ground into his buddy's leg. It was all very overwhelming, but his embarrassment was mitigated by the feeling of Puck's equally rigid hard-on pressing back into him. As yet another kiss sent a thrill of excitement ripping through his body, the hand in Puck's mohawk twisted involuntarily and he yanked up hard on his hair. Silently cursing himself for being so clumsy, Finn opened his mouth to apologize, only to be cut off by a little whimper of pleasure escaping Puck's throat. His eyes were shut and his lips parted, his whole body tensing with obvious arousal under Finn's hands.

Finn stared in awe at the spectacle before him. It was like he could feel some kind of carnal creature waking up in his gut. He never imagined _he_ could have this kind of effect on Puck. It was all very exhilarating. Feeling encouraged by his buddy's reaction, Finn grinned and did it again, tugging hard and purposefully on a large fistful of hair. This time Puck cried out loudly, writhing under Finn's grip. It was probably the sexiest sound Finn had ever heard in his life.

Finn's heart was racing, and he found he rather liked having the upper hand. As fun as it was to let Puck run the show, that creature swirling in his gut reminded him that _he_ was the bigger one of the pair of them. That meant he could run things if he wanted to, and oh man, did he want to.

So without warning, he knocked Puck on his back. The air left his buddy's lungs in a whoosh as he hit the floor with a thud. Stunned slightly, Puck stared up at him with wide eyes. Finn loomed over him, breathing hard. With one hand still tangled in Puck's hair, he pulled his head back roughly, exposing his neck. He kissed him once, right where his neck met his shoulder and Puck cried out, bucking up to meet him as Finn ground down into him. The feel of Puck's soft skin against his lips, his hard-on pressing into his thigh, and the tattoo of his pulse fluttering against his cheek was almost enough to do Finn in on the spot.

"Finn!" cried Puck, his voice cracking as he squirmed unabashedly under Finn's hands. This was easily the best wrestling match they'd ever had. Finn used his size to his advantage as he pinned Puck down by the hair and hip; he'd never been so happy that wrestling was one of the few things he'd always bested Puck at. The smaller boy twisted and bucked beneath him, putty in Finn's hands, and it was thrilling beyond his wildest imagination.

Proud of himself for being able to unravel Puck so easily, Finn trailed a searing line of kisses from his shoulder right up to his jaw. When he flicked his tongue against his earlobe, Puck let out a yell of delight that almost made Finn blow his load right then and there. He laughed as Puck writhed underneath him, trying to wiggle away from the too-intense pleasure. Following his instincts, Finn tightened his fingers in Puck's mohawk, holding him fast.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?" he heard himself ask gruffly, yanking Puck down a few inches by the hip, eliciting another almost orgasm-inducing yelp from the smaller boy.

"Nowhere," Puck grit out, his breath coming in sharp bursts. His eyes were glassy and his pupils were dilated. Finn could never have imagined a more arousing sight.

Puck's hands were suddenly all over Finn, pushing his T-shirt off over his head, leaning up to kiss him all along his chest and neck. Finn's eyes rolled back, and he nearly collapsed on top of Puck in the wake of the white-hot burn of lips. Nothing had ever felt so good. He was spiraling out of control, and if he let Puck carry on like this, he'd surely be wrecking another pair of underwear in no time. Wanting to prevent that degree of humiliation at all costs, he grabbed his friend by the shoulders and pinned him back down with more force than necessary. Puck's breath left him in a moan.

"You really like manhandling me, don't you Hudson?" he asked, his voice gravely and low. He managed to worm a hand free and it found its way to the back of Finn's neck, pulling him down into yet another kiss. This one was rougher and needier than before, and it drew a whine from the back of Finn's throat.

"Only if you do," Finn heard himself say.

Puck grinned. Finn was holding him so tight that he surely would bruise. Puck's chest was rising and falling in short gasps, his back arching off the floor. Finn could feel him trying to flip their positions, attempting to get on top and splay Finn out on his back, but Finn couldn't let that happen. He was about five seconds away from exploding all over his last clean pair of underwear. He used his last ounce of willpower to keep Puck rooted to the floor.

Eventually Puck gave up his squirming. When he spoke, his voice was thick with arousal, his hazel eyes flashing in a semi-crazed manner.

"I bet you could make me suck your cock if you wanted to," he rasped out.

"W-what," Finn stammered, that comment nearly short-circuiting his brain.

"You want me to suck you off? I'll do it if you want it."

And then Finn pictured it: Puck on his knees in front of him, cheeks hollowed around his cock, looking up at him affectionately as he sucked the freaking life force out of him. Finn's heart hammered. He was sweating as if he'd sprinted a mile. He turned his gaze skyward; silently praying to whichever god that would listen to not let him cream his pants like the awkward, bumbling virgin he so obviously was.

"Finn?" Puck asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion until reality dawned on him.

Finn tried to fight it but it was too late. The orgasm was already surging through his body, hitting him like a crashing ocean wave. He collapsed, rolling to his side so as to not crush Puck, twitching in the post-orgasmic euphoria. But that feeling of bliss was quickly replaced by a sense of humiliation that stuck to his soul in much the same way that his boxers were now sticking to his leg. The indignity of it all could have killed him, and to top it off, that nagging voice of his conscience was back in full swing, loudly chanting _I told you so! I told you so! I told you so!_

He'd never felt so disgraced in his life. How would he ever be able to face Puck after this? Surely their friendship would be over. He'd have to leave town. There was no other option. Feeling as though he was dying inside, Finn covered his face with his hands, hiding in what little security they provided.

A silent, awkward moment passed where neither boy said anything. Then Finn felt a subtle movement beside him as Puck's hand gently closed on his wrist. He was trying to uncover his face, but Finn just couldn't allow it. His cheeks burned in mortification and he prayed a fissure would open in the earth and swallow him whole.

"Dude," said Puck, his voice uncharacteristically kind. "Relax. It's okay." He tugged on Finn's wrist but Finn shrugged him off. "Relax. You think that's never happened to me before?"

Finn didn't respond. He highly doubted that Puck had ever been in a situation where he jizzed his pants after another dude offered to suck him off.

A beat passed. "You know I'll never tell anyone about this…" He let go of Finn's wrist, shifting to lie down next to him. Finn somehow felt a hundred times worse without that little bit of contact.

But again, he didn't respond, still holding out hope that the floor would swallow him up.

"And you know what else?" said Puck conspiratorially, rolling on his side and shaking Finn's shoulder. "In the off chance we _did_ ever tell anyone, I'll tell 'em you were the stamina king…And that I passed out from exhaustion before you could even get off."

"Shut up," said Finn, his voice muffled by his hands. But he couldn't stop the small smile from twitching the corners of his mouth. He cut his eyes over to see Puck grinning at him, his cheek propped on his hand. He didn't look angry or disgusted or even like he was about to laugh. If anything, he was looking at Finn…fondly?

Slowly, Finn took his hands away from his face. "You really won't tell anyone?" he asked weakly.

Puck made a face. "Please. Like I'm ever gonna tell a _soul_ we did all sorts of gay shit together. Come on. Get real."

Finn snorted.

"Why don't I just go and tell the world how I offered to suck you off while I'm at it?" Puck said with a smirk, waving his hand sarcastically. "That'll go over like a fart in church."

Finn laughed. He gave Puck a half-hearted punch on the shoulder. "Shut up, dude." He wouldn't admit it but he was feeling a little better. Like maybe this wouldn't be the complete end of the world after all.

"Here, let me get you something," Puck gave Finn's arm a one last squeeze before getting to his feet. He rummaged through his closet and fished out a pair of pajama pants with black and orange B's all over them. "You can keep these. They're too big on me anyway." He tossed them to Finn. "Besides I fucking hate the Bengals."

Finn nodded gratefully. The pair of pants he had on now were absolutely totaled. "Thanks. …Hey, where you going?" he asked, as Puck was headed for the door.

"Where do you think? Downstairs to toss one off. In case you've forgotten, you're the only one of us who's squeezed one out so far, you selfish prick," Puck said with a teasing grin.

"Hey, fuck off!" Finn called after his retreating back. "And for the record, we couldn't have done…you know, that _thing_ you suggested. You're drunk. I'm not gonna take advantage of a drunk person. It isn't right."

Puck paused, poking his head back through the doorway. "Oh you don't understand. I _wanted_ you to take advantage of me."

"No way!" said Finn, waving his hand dismissively as he turned the pajama pants over in his lap. "That would be like…rape or something."

"Can't rape the willing, Hudson!" Puck called from the hallway. "And for the record, I'm not even that drunk."

And Finn might have actually believed him if he didn't hear Puck go crashing sidelong into the banister a moment later.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So this is my take on how drunk/dehydrated/rapidly-sobering Puck might behave. This one's super fluffy; like ridiculously so. Probably my favorite chapter to write thus far. Rated T for language.**

 **Also, sorry about the missed update last week. I'm thinking I'm going to go every other week for a little bit.**

 **Chapter 12**

"So I need to talk to you about something important," Puck announced loudly upon returning upstairs, the bedroom door closing behind him with a click.

Finn was already curled up on his cot, snug in his new Cincinnati Bengals pants with the blanket pulled up over his head. He wasn't quite sure what to say. How was he supposed to address Puck after all that they'd done? They'd totally crossed that proverbial 'invisible line' and were now well beyond a hop and a skip into gay territory. He wondered vaguely if it might just be best to pretend to be asleep.

"Cut the crap, Hudson, I know you're awake," said Puck resolutely, kicking Finn's mattress as he padded by.

For a moment, Finn considered keeping up the charade in what he felt was a really convincing imitation of sleep. But then he felt Puck crouch down beside him and he couldn't stop his mouth from twitching into a traitorous smile.

"Ha! I knew it! You're such a bad liar!" said Puck emphatically, punching Finn on the arm.

"…Fine. You got me," Finn grumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. Puck perched on his bed, his eyes glinting in the low light from the streetlamps outside. "What is it you need to talk to me about?"

Puck clasped his hands together and took a deep breath as if summoning the courage to broach a very difficult subject. "Okay. I wasn't going to say anything at first because I didn't want to sound like a whiney little bitch. But in light of you jizzing your pants all over my bedroom floor, I feel like I deserve at least one free pass."

"Hey, fuck off, dude!" said Finn, feeling his cheeks heat up. "You promised you weren't gonna talk about that!"

"Yeah, well, I won't. Starting now," said Puck, waving him off. "Do you want to hear what I got to say or not?"

"Fine, yes, get on with it," said Finn flatly, rolling his eyes.

Puck took another deep breath, getting serious again. Finn watched him expectantly. "I'm gonna be honest with you here, dude. I'm still pretty freaked out about the demon."

Silence followed that statement and Finn blinked. "You're…what?"

"I'm still pretty freaked out about the demon!" Puck repeated, louder this time, as if the issue had been with the volume of his voice and not the content of the sentence.

"Okay…" Finn said slowly, wondering briefly if Puck was just fucking with him. But he'd never seen his friend look so sincere in his life.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I almost couldn't rub one out because I kept thinking…'What if the demon appears and tears my dick off?'" He wrung his hands in his lap, his voice a half whine. His eyes were so wide and pleading as they searched Finn's for a sign of understanding. Finn had to be very careful not to let his face twitch into a laugh, which it desperately wanted to do.

"Oh…I, uh, _wow_ ," said Finn, unable to stop the smirk from pulling at the corners of his mouth. He spoke carefully. "So what you're saying is…I should hide the baseball bat again in case you try and perform another impromptu exorcism on your desk lamp?"

"Fuck you, dude, I'm being serious!" said Puck indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "…I keep imagining the demon stabbing me to death after he rips my dick off." Finn had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

He just couldn't help himself. "The real question is…does he stab you with your dick that he's just ripped off, or something else entirely?"

"Really, asshole? I'm pouring out my soul to you over here and you're laughing at me?" Puck's hand lashed out, grabbing his school issued copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ off his desk. He whipped it hard at Finn.

"Hey! Ow! Okay, watch it!" he said with a chuckle, throwing his arm up in defense. The book bounced off his elbow and landed on the floor with a thump.

"And this after I was so nice to you!" Puck said, shaking his head disappointedly. "I was so cool about it when you popped the weasel in your pants earlier, and now you're making fun of me because I'm scared of the _demon?_ " He crossed frowned sullenly. "How is _that_ fair? You know, you're almost making me reconsider my promise not to talk about your little 'Christmas in July' episode back there!"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" said Finn hastily, putting his hands up in a sign of surrender.

But Puck wasn't done. He drew his feet up on the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees. He fixed Finn with one of his trademark glares that could've made the geeks at school shit their pants. But because he was rapidly sobering and so obviously over-tired, the effect was just funny and adorable rather than scary. Finn wasn't quite sure if he wanted to tease him or shake him or hug him—or maybe a combination of all three—so he settled with staying quiet and waiting.

"You said—" Puck began accusingly, but the rest of his sentence trailed off in a mumble.

"What did I say?" Finn asked indulgently, leaning in to hear him better.

His eyes flashed as he picked his head up. "You said it was okay to be scared. That you weren't going to make fun of me. Remember? Last night? You said that I'm not just any asshole, I'm _your_ asshole. That means you gotta be nice to me…"

Finn bit his lip, vaguely recalling saying something along those lines while they did laundry in the basement. He sighed. Maybe Puck was only acting this vulnerable and childish because of the residual alcohol in his bloodstream, but that whole demon thing really was freaking him out. If nothing else, he needed Finn to be a good friend right now.

"You're right, I did say that," Finn said, using the most placating voice he could muster.

"So why're you making fun of me if you promised you wouldn't?" Puck asked, looking all dejected as he hugged himself, his chin resting on his knee. "I know I'm an asshole and all, but not to you. So when I promised I wouldn't tell anyone about you going all 'Mt. Vesuvius' in your boxers, I meant it! Did you mean it when you said you weren't gonna make fun of me?"

"Yes! I meant it!" said Finn quickly, starting to feel a little frustrated. "And I'm sorry! I won't make fun of you anymore. Jesus Christ, dude"

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"…Positive?"

" _Yes!_ Oh my god, dude, what do I gotta do to show you?" Finn asked, running his hand through his hair in exasperation.

"…Well, for starters, you could come up here with me…" said Puck, his tone flat and his eyes averted as he hit the back of his hand on the spot next to him. Finn's eyebrows shot up in surprise but Puck's whole demeanor made his heart clench. How could he deny such a vulnerable request?

"You mean like this?" he asked quietly, getting up and moving to sit beside Puck, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

Puck hesitated a second before slumping over, letting his head fall on Finn's chest. Finn felt him nod his acquiescence against him. Tentatively, he pressed his palm flat on Puck's back, and he could almost feel the tension evaporating off him. Feeling a little bolder, he absently rubbed a few circles on his friend's shoulder blade, which he seemed to enjoy, so he carried on like that for a few quiet minutes.

"See dude? It's alright, nothing to be scared of," Finn said. He gave his buddy a little shake, trying to buck him up. "No demons are gonna rip your dick off and stab you with it. Not on my watch."

"You promise?" Puck mumbled into Finn's shirt.

"Of course I promise," said Finn, biting back a snort of laughter.

Puck didn't open his eyes; he just stayed there, sagged against Finn's chest, letting the warmth of his friend's hands calm him.

Finn hesitated before voicing his next question. "So what else can I do besides sitting here with you?"

Puck shifted, looking up at him with big eyes, his cheek pressed into Finn's shoulder. "Um…you could tell me you're gonna sleep up here with me? And not on the floor?"

Finn smiled, suddenly feeling all weak, like his heart was going to explode in his chest. It was a strange and powerful feeling.

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You're cute, dude," he said.

"Well? Are you gonna?" Puck asked quickly.

The look on his face was so damn adorable that Finn almost couldn't handle it. Smirking, he dropped a heavy hand on Puck's mohawk. "So cute."

"Answer the question, Finn!" said Puck, almost belligerently, as he tried halfheartedly to squirm out from under Finn's hand.

"Obviously I'm gonna stay with you. How else am I gonna stop the demons from getting you, huh?" He ruffled up Puck's hair before pulling the blanket back and pushing him under it.

A week ago, Finn would have expected nothing short of an ass kicking if he ever got this touchy-feely with Puck. Yet here he was now, flat on his back in a twin bed with a face full of mohawk, his best buddy plastered securely to his side. His heart fluttered as he felt Puck's fingers clutch into his shirt. He could almost feel the desperation pour through his friend's hand and into his own skin. Finn's heart filled with a strange sense of pride; it just felt so nice to be needed. Here was Big Bad Puck, whose vile reputation was known throughout Lima, curled into his side like a giant baby kitten, his hand clinging to Finn's shirt like a life line. And all because of a stupid demon! It was really quite a spectacle. But for now Finn just basked in the feeling of pride he got from comforting his best friend. He pressed his cheek against Puck's raspy buzz cut, smiling when he felt him nuzzle back.

Heart aching, Finn raised a hand and laid it gently across Puck's cheek, feeling his eyelashes flutter shut against his fingers. He lightly traced his thumb across Puck's eyebrow, down the side of his face and along his jaw. All the while, his buddy cuddled closer, his fingers relaxing from Finn's shirt as they began tracing patterns into his chest. Finn could see the little smile playing on Puck's lips he ran his hand against the grain of his buzz cut. It gave him an immense sense of satisfaction knowing he had put it there.

Self-confidence soaring, Finn trailed his fingers slowly down Puck's side, from his shoulder down to his hip bone and back up again. He noted with amusement that Puck shivered whenever his fingers danced around the curve where his neck met his shoulder. It seemed he liked being touched there almost as much as he enjoyed being kissed there…Finn carried on like that for a little while, running his hand up and down the length of his friend's back, circling his thumb over his hip bone every so often. And whenever he did it just right, Puck's breath would hitch and his hips would roll forward. He made a little game of it, lying there on his back in the dark with his best buddy glued to his side. How often could he make Puck twitch using just his fingertips alone? Turns out, he was getting pretty good at it, or at least he assumed he was seeing as Puck was making no attempt to hide his excitement from pressing sharply into Finn's thigh.

"What're you doing to me, man?" Puck asked gruffly as he squirmed around in Finn's arms.

"Nothing," said Finn innocently, running his fingertips feather-light up his buddy's back. "Just playing with you…warding off the demons…"

"Is that what you're doing?" said Puck as his hips bucked of their own accord. "'Cause I'd argue you were trying to turn me on."

"Why?" teased Finn, grinning. "Is it working?" He ran a finger down Puck's spine, making his back arch.

"You know damn well it's working!"

"You can't handle it, can you?"

"A lot better that you could!" Puck said contentiously, shifting to put a little space between himself and Finn. He was breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed. "You'll notice I haven't jizzed myself yet!"

"Hey," said Finn, pulling back to point a finger at him warningly. "If I can't make fun of you for the demon thing, then you can't make fun of me for…for the other thing."

Puck scowled. "Oh come on! But your thing is funny."

"Fine," said Finn, throwing the blanket back and making to get up. "I guess you want me to go sleep on the cot—"

"Hey! Alright, alright, I'm sorry." One of his hands shot out, wrapping itself tightly around Finn's wrist.

"Nope, sorry dude, you had your chance," Finn said, continuing to pull away. "I'm gonna go sleep on the floor where no one will make fun of me. Good night." He only meant to tease him a little, but Puck looked uncharacteristically scared.

"No! Come on, I'm sorry! Don't—don't leave me!"

The look of panic in his eyes made Finn feel a little guilty. He quickly settled back down, wrapping his arms around Puck again. "Hey, relax buddy, I'm not going anywhere! I was just fucking with you."

Puck glared at him. He was tense in Finn's arms, his hands clenched into fists on his T-shirt. Finn petted soothingly along his head and shoulders, trying to make him calm down.

"See?" he said, continuing his ministrations until Puck settled his head back down against his chest. "Only kidding. Just fucking with you. I'm staying right here…"

"You're a dick," said Puck in a muffled voice, his face pressed into Finn's shoulder. "But I totally knew you were kidding …"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you did, tough guy," Finn said, shifting so Puck was flush against his side one again with his mohawked head tucked neatly under his chin. _Where he belongs_ , Finn's conscience said strangely. "Just don't make fun of me and we won't have a problem."

"Okay, Finn," he said sleepily, nuzzling his forehead into Finn's neck until he was comfortable.

Finn smirked and resumed running his hand up and down the smooth skin of Puck's back and side. He found that with only slightly more pressure, he could easily make things go from arousing to relaxing. Soon he felt Puck's breathing level out and could feel his hand clenching and unclenching sleepily in the material of his T-shirt. He was growing heavier and heavier in Finn's arms.

There was no greater feeling in the world, Finn mused, than the way his heart melted as Puck drifted off in his arms. He'd give up a thousand blowjobs if it meant he could continue experiencing this feeling. It was funny. So many of his friends were so hung up on the idea of having sex, yet he was willing to bet money that this level of intimacy felt a million times better than sex ever could. He supposed he'd have to try it one day to know for sure, but in the meantime, he'd continue to enjoy the cuddling.

"…I don't wanna do that," Puck said suddenly, jerking Finn out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"I don't wanna go ice skating with Lauren Zizes. She'll break the ice…" His words were slurred and thick with sleep as he snuggled closer to Finn, his buzz cut tickling his neck.

"Just give her a chance, dude, she might surprise you," Finn coaxed him, stifling a laugh.

"But I wanna go with you instead…"

"Just go with her," said Finn, patting his back. "We'll go some other time."

"Promise…?"

"Just go to sleep, dude," he chuckled, letting his lips graze across his friend's forehead as Puck drifted off into what promised to be a very bizarre dream.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So this chapter was an absolute bitch and a half to write. Took me forever to get it how I wanted it. Lucky number thirteen, I guess. I must've written and rewritten it a dozen times. It's finally flowing how I want it. (I hope)  
**

 **I've got some ideas for some Unholy Trinity appearances in the future that I'm really excited for. But for now, more Finn and Puck, and I hope you enjoy the second part of this fic. We're now into Thanksgiving time. T for language.**

 **And shout out to Jojobean and Chicimono for always reviewing. You guys rock!**

 **Chapter 13**

Finn tried his damnedest to pay attention as Mr. Schuester droned on and on about when to use _ser_ versus _estar_ , but he just couldn't seem to focus. It was his last class before Thanksgiving break and his attention span was already dangerously narrow. On top of that, he'd be meeting Quinn Freaking Fabray in just thirty-five short minutes, and he could barely contain his nerves.

It'd come as a major shock when Quinn tracked him down at his locker the other day and said she wanted to give 'Team Fuinn' another go. He couldn't believe his luck. After all, their first date—and that's using the term 'date' loosely—had been a major disaster. Never in a million years did he think she'd give him another chance after _that_ epic fail.

A part of his conscience knew she was only interested in him again because he'd made the Varsity basketball team. At least that's what Puck seemed to think anyways. And while it did sting a little bit, a larger part of him didn't really care. If Quinn wanted to go out with him again, who the hell was he to question her motives?

He was going to do better this time. He _had_ to. In all fairness, he couldn't do much worse. He shuddered as he thought back to that fateful Friday after Halloween. God, he could really be such a moron sometimes. What had he been thinking, showing up to Quinn's veritable mansion with two bike helmets and a picnic basket clutched in his big, dumb hands?

Yeah, there was nowhere to go from here but up…

* * *

Finn momentarily forgot how to speak English when Quinn Fabray pulled open her door. She looked like an angel in a floral print dress, her corn silk blonde hair framing her face in soft waves. Standing awkwardly before her, he suddenly felt like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, and why the hell didn't he remember to iron his jeans before going over there?

Quinn's demure angel face soured once she saw what was in his hands.

"Bike helmets," she said suspiciously. "What are you up to, Finn?"

"I have a surprise for you," he said, leading her down the stoop to where he'd left the surprise in question leaning against the Dudley Road yield sign.

She stopped walking when her eyes fell on the lime green atrocity. "What the heck is this?"

"A tandem bike," Finn explained, his smile faltering. "But it's not just any tandem bike. This is the Green Machine. My dad built it himself. He and my mom used to ride it around everywhere. Well, before he died, anyway. Check it out; I put new tires on it and everything!"

Quinn wasn't interested in the tires. "And what's in there?" she asked, jutting her chin towards the woven basket in his other hand.

"Uh, a picnic? I-I thought it would be fun to bike over to the park…Feed the geese…?" He balked under her angry gaze. Damn, he knew he should've run this whole picnic idea by Puck before going through with it.

"In November," she asked skeptically. "You want to have a picnic in November?"

"Well—yeah?" _Shit_. It was becoming more and more evident that he'd miscalculated.

"What happened to Breadstix? You told me we were going to have dinner and play mini-golf. You didn't say anything about a janky picnic!"

"Er—well…" Finn ground his toe into a crack in the sidewalk. Truth was he didn't exactly have the money for that kind of date. Not anymore, anyway. Not since he'd snuck his entire life savings—all thirty-five dollars and sixty-two cents of it—into Kurt Hummel's locker. He'd overheard that the little gay dude and his dad were in some dire financial straits following some inexplicable roof damage and his conscience had been riddled with guilt.

"Well what?" she asked, her eyes boring into his. Finn felt his palms begin to sweat.

"I-I thought this would be fun…" he said weakly.

" _Fun!_ Are you freaking kidding me, Finn Hudson?" She grabbed one of his bike helmets and hit him with it. Wincing, he stepped back in defense. "Who do you think I am? You think I'm the kind of girl who'll get on a Loony Tunes bike with you? You must've lost your mind!"

"But I—!" He tried to ignore the way her jab at his parents' once cherished bike seemed to cut him in the chest.

"But nothing, Finn! I'm not some trailer park girl that you can impress with crap like this! Go home with this garbage! I'll see you at school." And with that, she dropped the helmet at his feet and stormed up to her house, slamming the door behind her.

"But—!" A ringing silence filled his ears as he stood very much alone on the curb of Dudley Road. He'd never felt so humiliated and angry and…hurt? He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or hit something or cry, or maybe a combination of all three. Instead, he scraped what was left of his pride off the sidewalk and clambered onto the bike.

 _Puck_.

It was the only word in his brain that made any sense. He had to tell Puck about this, humiliating though it would be. He had to tell him because he was Finn's best friend in the whole world and the only person who could make him feel better about the whole situation. It might be a little awkward, but Finn didn't care. After all, he hadn't been to Puck's house since last Sunday when they'd woken up tangled together in a state of confusion, Puck nearly dead from a hangover.

Thirty minutes later, he was leaning the tandem bike against the busted siding of number eighteen Gilboa Avenue and pounding his fist heavily on the front door.

"Keep your panties on, I'm coming!" came Puck's muffled voice as he fumbled with the deadbolt. "Finn?" he said in surprise a moment later. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out on your date with your head up Quinn's ass?"

Finn's jaw twitched. "Can I come in?" he asked, pushing past Puck without waiting for a reply.

"Uh, sure?" Puck closed the door and followed Finn upstairs. "…Didn't go well, did it?" he asked slowly, watching as Finn threw himself dejectedly into the desk chair.

Finn didn't answer; just gave a quick jerk of his head 'no.'

"…Want to talk about it?"

Finn hesitated. In reality, he wanted to tell Puck everything; like how his heart felt like it'd been stabbed a hundred times with a blunt knife. But he didn't trust his own voice at the moment. Afraid of how pathetic he might sound, he opted to keep silent and bury his face in the crook of his elbow.

"Ah, fuck her, dude," said Puck dismissively, the epitome of 'bros-before-hoes' crassness. "You were too good for her anyway."

Finn scoffed into his elbow. It was a bit of a stretch, even for Puck, to pretend like Finn was too good for the great Quinn Fabray.

"Go on," said Puck, ruffling Finn's hair playfully, making him jump. "Tell me what happened."

Finn grumbled and swatted Puck's hand away. He took a deep breath, raising his head from the safety of his arm. "I didn't have the money to take her on a real date," he said slowly. "So I had to improvise."

 _Improvise_. He'd learned that word from that annoying Rachel Berry chick in English class today.

"Oh god, what did you do?" said Puck warily.

"You remember my parents' old tandem bike, right?"

"The Green Machine? Of course, that thing was fun as shit," said Puck. He and Finn had many fond memories of playing on it back when they were kids and Mrs. Hudson kept it mounted as a stationary bike on a pair of industrial fans in the basement.

"Yeah, well, I thought it would be fun to take her on a bike ride and have a picnic in the park, but she basically laughed in my face," said Finn flatly. God damn, even the words felt stupid in his mouth. What had he been thinking?

"Wait." The corners of Puck's mouth twitched. "You were going to take _Quinn_ —who's arguably the hottest girl in our grade—to the park for a picnic…on a tandem bike?"

"…Yes," Finn admitted, feeling like a moron.

"And you're telling me her panties _weren't_ absolutely soaked?"

"Shut up," Finn snapped, hitting him on the arm. "Yes, I get it. I fucked up. You don't have to go making me feel worse than I already do."

Puck threw his head back and laughed. "Jesus Christ, dude! What was your plan? Which park were you gonna take her to? The one where those kids got abducted or the one where the hobo got stabbed?"

"The one where the hobo got stabbed," said Finn, feeling irritated when Puck's laughter didn't abate.

"You got some _balls_ on you, dude!" said Puck, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "If I was a chick, I would've totally gone, just 'cause you were man enough to do something so ridiculous!"

"Too bad you're not a chick, then," said Finn flatly.

"Ah, cheer up, man," said Puck thumping him on the back. "Forget about her. She's not worth it. Besides, when you make the Varsity basketball team in a few weeks, you're gonna be absolutely _drowning_ in pussy. Quinn will be so jealous. "

Finn looked up hopefully. "D'you think if I make the basketball team Quinn will want me again?"

"Er—yeah, probably…" said Puck, shrugging disinterestedly. "But who cares? The point is, you'll have loads of other options. And what do I always say? 'The best way to move on from one chick—"

"—is to score with a different one.' Yeah, yeah, I know," said Finn, rolling his eyes. But then something odd clicked in his mind. "Hang on. If girls will be interested in me 'cause I'm good at basketball, you don't think Quinn blew me off 'cause of how bad I sucked in football, do you?"

Puck bit his lip but didn't say anything.

The game against Dayton a few days back had been a disaster of epic proportions. With a final score of seventy-six to six, the defeat was record-breaking. Finn had never seen Coach Tanaka look so pissed, which was saying something considering the man always looked like he smelled shit under his nose. To make matters worse, they'd lost to Dayton's JV team. Losing, Finn could deal with. Losing to a bunch of dudes who didn't even have pubes yet? That was a different story.

Puck's silence spoke volumes. Finn groaned and dropped his face into his hands.

"Forget it, dude. It doesn't matter," Puck told him. "You're gonna make the basketball team and the chicks are gonna be lining up on their knees to suck your cock—"

"How d'you know?" Finn asked, looking up at Puck stubbornly. For all he knew he was going to stink up the basketball court like he did the football field.

"'Cause you're Finn Fucking Hudson!" said Puck loudly, punching him hard on the arm for emphasis. "I'm telling you you're cool as shit; you just have to believe it yourself. And I'll tell you what else," he grinned at Finn slyly. "If no chicks offer to suck you off after we win our season opener, I swear to god I'll do it myself."

Finn's face flushed scarlet. "Jesus Christ, dude!" he shouted, looking away in embarrassment. "Thanks, I guess, but I was just asking how you knew I'd make the basketball team…"

"Oh." Now it was Puck's turn to blush. He turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting the tie he'd put on for Temple. "Uh, 'cause you're like, seven feet tall, dude. There's no way a dude as tall as you isn't making that team…And…I was just kidding about the whole sucking you off thing, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, sure you were," said Finn, trying to laugh it off. But joke or not, something about Puck's comment made him squirm. If he was being honest with himself, an itty bitty, teeny tiny part of his brain would absolutely love for Puck to make good on that offer.

* * *

"Uh, Finn? Finn, hey there buddy. Earth to Finn—?"

"Huh? What?"

The dopey grin slid off his face when he realized he was no longer at Puck's, but rather still in his front row seat of Spanish class. Except the room was now empty, save for Mr. Schue, who was packing his things and getting ready to leave.

"Class ended eight minutes ago, Finn" said Mr. Schue, chuckling as he glanced at his watch.

"What! Really? Why—why didn't anybody tell me?" Panicking, Finn began to scramble, shoving his vocabulary sheet and homework packet into his backpack.

"Eh, it's last day before Thanksgiving. We can all afford to relax a little," said Mr. Schue, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, you're a hard-working kid; you needed the nap."

For the first and probably only time in his life, Finn wished he had a more hard-assed teacher who would've slammed a fist on his desk to wake him up the moment he'd nodded off. Because now he was late—he glanced at the clock to confirm it—and Quinn was going to be so mad. _Fuck!_ Maybe if broke out into a dead sprint, he might be able to make it on time.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Mr. Schue called after him as Finn bolted for the door.

He didn't even bother replying; he just tore through the halls like a madman. And as he rounded the corner, he nearly ran headlong into the same mohawked individual that he'd been daydreaming about just minutes before.


End file.
